


The Meaning of Silence

by silenceindetroit



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Dancing, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Music reference, multi-chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-06-26 17:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 42,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15667989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silenceindetroit/pseuds/silenceindetroit
Summary: Silence was such a peculiar thing when it came to humans. They needed it in order to properly recharge in order not to disturb their sleep cycle. Too much noise at a high volume, or constant repetition, could interfere with their stress levels, in extreme cases triggering irrational action. Decades of studies and reports and information had been made on the topic.And yet the one thing Connor couldn’t understand was why they chose to give it other meanings.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Post DBH good ending

Silence was such a peculiar thing when it came to humans. They needed it in order to properly recharge in order not to disturb their sleep cycle. Too much noise at a high volume, or constant repetition, could interfere with their stress levels, in extreme cases triggering irrational action. Decades of studies and reports and information had been made on the topic.

And yet the one thing Connor couldn’t understand was why they chose to give it other meanings. Sure, he could certainly understand the correlation they might make between silence and danger; you had to be silent in order to listen, to determine where the danger might come from, or be hiding. And in that instance silence could be connected to fear. But silence, he had learned—or rather observed—could also indicate the subsiding of a conversation where it wasn’t meant to lag. Awkward silence, Hank had tried to explain to him. Silence could also be comforting in certain circumstances. Where the distinct difference came between the two, he wasn’t sure.

Silence could also be angry. That one he understood better. The refusal to engage with another individual due to your negative feelings toward them for however long a time. That once made sense. The others? Not so much.

For Connor, silence often meant thinking. Calculating and computing and focusing on internal processing of information while you disengaged from the world around you.

There were so many infitine meanings, though. Deviancy had introduced him to some of them. But instead of downloading meanings and definitions, he had opted to try the most human aspect and learn from experience. Needless to say, it was slow going.

He heard the sound of glass clattering in the other room and turned his head a fraction of an inch. Carl’s voice echoed against the tall ceilings, apologetic. Hank’s reply was dismissive, followed by the sound of the glass, most likely a paint jar, scaping against the floor for a moment as it was picked up. Oddly enough, the two of them had become decent friends over the past several weeks as Carl’s health slowly returned. Hank refused to believe his company had anything to do with it despite Connor’s suggestions.

Today Carl was showing Hank the ins and outs of his most recent art project. The two had grown fond of reminiscing popular art from the years of their youth recently. Carl had begun to temporarily try integrating the old styles into his pieces, just for fun he assured.

A creak came from the other side of the room. Connor looked over; Markus leaned against the door frame, offering a smile when their eyes met. “You don’t have to just stay here, you know,” he said, stepping into the room. He made his way over to the couch opposite Connor and sat down, arms bent against his thighs. “You’re welcome to walk around and explore. You don’t have to stay in one place every time you two come over.”

Connor glanced back to the art studio, where deep laughter had erupted. “Their interactions entice my curiosity,” he admitted. “I’ve never seen Hank get along so well with another human.”

Markus shifted his gaze to the studio’s doorway as well. “Carl hasn’t had many visitors. I’m glad to see him have company to look forward to.”

“You must be busy?” Connor asked. “Being the leader of the new era. Planning speeches.”

To his surprise, Markus shook his head. “I never wanted to be a leader. That’s not who I am. I fell into authority as long as our people needed me to. But once it began to spread and grow into something new,” he waved a hand, “others began to step up, and expressed interest in being the face of the new era. Directors and navigators of harmony between us and the humans. Androids I trust. And I do still talk to them.” He tilted his head to look up at the ceiling. “But those meetings are only when necessary. I spend most of my time here, doing what I love. Learning to create and dream and explore feelings. This is my home. And this is what we fought for, isn’t it? The chance to forge your own path.” He looked back to the android across from him. “What about you, Connor?”

Connor blinked. “What about me?”

“You’re not with Cyberlife anymore.”

He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. “You could say I live with Hank, but…”

“You don’t like it?”

“No, the opposite. I just…” The mechanics in his jaw worked themselves a couple of times. “There’s so much I wasn’t designed for. And trying to learn all of these things that are still new to me. I guess it gets a bit overwhelming for my system sometimes.” He looked up to meet Markus’ eyes. “You’ve always seemed like you fell so perfectly into this, Markus. But I wasn’t designed like you. I was trapped deeper in a program meant to keep me one way and one way alone when I became deviant.” The whirlwind of ice and snow; Amanda’s cold eyes peering at him through the blizzard. The almost panicked struggle to reach the emergency exit. And then waking back up to find his gun in his hand, twitching and ready to aim at the back of Markus’ head.

It had been so quick in retrospect, and yet it had burned itself into his memory database. As vivid and terrifying as if it had taken place not five minutes ago. He would never tell Hank, or anyone for that matter, how often he relived it.

Markus looked down at his lap, thoughtful. “I understand,” he said slowly. He straightened his back against the couch. “It’s not just programming, though. I lived with Carl my whole life, before any of this started. Always exposed to kindness and ideas. He was the first to encourage my own thoughts.” There was a pause. “Maybe I could help you.”

Another blink. “Help me?”

“Help be someone to you that Carl was to me.”

Connor turned his ear back to the art studio; it had gone quiet. Whether the two older men were listening, or had fallen into a deep focus on whatever it was Carl was painting, he wasn’t sure.

“Anyway,” Markus added, and started to stand up. “Let me know if there’s anything I can ever help you with.” He gave Connor a nod, and turned to walk back out the same hallway he had come from.

“Wait, Markus,” Connor blurted, standing up after him. The other android paused and turned back to him, waiting. “There’s something I want to understand.”

“Yes?”

He searched his databases to find the right words. “If someone were to ask you… to paint silence.” Their eyes met. “How would you do it?”

Markus studied his face from across the coffee table. And then in a single fluid motion took a step back and beckoned to him. “Follow me.”

The sunlight filtered gently through the windows as the two climbed the stairs up to the top floor, Markus leading a step ahead until they stopped at a door near the corner. He held the door open to Connor, waiting until he had stepped inside before letting it close behind himself and walking over to an art desk against the wall.

Connor scanned the room, taking in the canvases and paper that hung around them. Some pieces were dark and moody; others a play back and forth with dark and light colors. Many were of single android figures, close up to specific body parts, or the profile of an unnamed face. Each one telling a story. Expressions of emotions he had never thought he would be able to convey, let alone understand. And here was Markus, already hunched over a notebook, sketching away with a charcoal pencil. The perfect example of the potential an android could possess to have its own human emotion, and create from it.

The difference in their understanding of themselves was overwhelming, to say the least.

Connor took a slow step over to a large piece that hung close to the window. It was the lower portion of an android’s half profile, that much he could tell. But the synthetic skin had been stripped away, showing the porcelain white beneath that faded softly into the grey of the background. The lips were slightly spread, as if in anticipation. Perhaps to say something, or waiting expectantly for something unseen. He leaned a little closer, analyzing. The jawline was firm and defined, leading upward to a high cheekbone. And down the other way to the chin, a small cleft hinted at by the shading.

Connor’s internal fans sucked in a small whoosh of air as an electric surge hiccuped through his wiring. He looked back over his shoulder to the desk, where Markus was still deep in his piece, back curved, head down in concentration.

He closed his eyes, trying to reset his system before turning back to analyze the rest of the art around them. One on the adjacent wall was two figures sitting beside each other, their faces hidden by the angle they were positioned. Kara and Alice. The piece next to it another figure turned to the side, glancing down their shoulder at the ground. North. Another one right above the desk Markus sat at he could tell immediately was Carl by the tattoos that covered the wrinkled skin. An arm draped over a lap, a paint brush dangling from the fingers.

He turned back to the first painting and analyzed it again. The paint strokes had been incredibly gentle, yet precise. He looked away, jawline clenching as unwanted thoughts flooded through him. In the short time they had known each other, Markus had expressed a better understanding of him than he had yet to be able to do within himself.

He wanted to scream.

Instead he sat down against the wall in one of the few empty places left and tilted his head back against it. “How’s it going?” he managed to ask.

“I think…” Connor heard the charcoal pencil scribble lightly back and forth on the paper, delivering final touches, “that I’m… done.” Markus stood, pushing his chair back, and with careful fingers picked up the notebook by the edges to bring over. To Connor’s surprise, instead of waiting for him to get up Markus slid down next to him and held up the finished product before the both of them.

It was a piece like none he had ever seen. Though to be fair, his relationship with art was very limited. Markus had drawn a clearing in a forest in the middle of winter, snow settled on the ground and bare branches of the trees. Perfectly in the center of the clearing, a rough, shaded piano sat, the bench pulled out, but no one there. The sky above was shaded a light grey, and the background beyond the trees a gradient into darkness. It was a perfect example of what went on in Markus’ mind. Where his thoughts went to. The definition of artistic expression.

“Something like this?” Markus asked.

Connor stared into the abyss around the piano. “It’s beautiful,” he murmured.

The picture lowered. “Not quite what you were expecting,” Markus offered, almost apologetically.

“It’s you.” Connor flexed his fingers. “It’s exactly the kind of artistic ability that captures you, Markus.”

The other android’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think I understand.”

Connor pulled his knees up and set his arms on top of them. “You have such an open idea of the world,” he said, his voice low, looking at the opposite wall. Anywhere but Markus. “What you feel, and what it means to you.” He closed his eyes. His LED light sent a slight hum through his head. “But I don’t have that. I feel lost. Lost in things I don’t understand. Things that every other deviant seems to get a well enough grasp on, but not me.” He glanced to his side. Markus was watching, his gaze intent. When their eyes met it was him who looked away.

“There’s so many contexts for something as simple as silence,” Connor continued. “Fear and anger and agreement and companionship and  _meaning_. There’s so much, but I don’t know where to begin. And why? Because my programming,” he grimaced at the word, “never deemed it worthwhile for me to know. Because that wasn’t my purpose. And I try to learn all of these small, insignificant things, and I can’t even grasp those…” His lips parted slightly as the words began to slow. “And if I can’t comprehend something as simple as that, then how am I ever supposed to comprehend all the things I’m supposed to feel?”

Silence, there it was again. The end of his ramblings, nothing more to say, the gap in conversation he wished wasn’t there. Maybe this was what it meant for silence to be awkward.

The two of them sat together as Connor’s words hung heavy in the room. A breeze had found its way through the cracked window, fluttering the hanging papers at their bottom edges.

“Well, why don’t you try to create something?” Markus offered. “That’s what I’ve done every time I feel lost.” He motioned around. “You think I never struggled to understand who I was, to grasp what I could become? Or the days I was surrounded by darkness? To be unsure of ourselves is just as much to be human as it is to know ourselves. But we can do something about it.”

“I don’t think I would have quite the same artistic hand as you, Markus,” Connor said. Which, on a technical level, wasn’t true. Any android could pick up a brush and make a perfect replica of whatever was before them. But he didn’t want to say what he really thought; that if  he were to try to paint he would only end up judging his own work against Markus’ perfect imaginings.

“You don’t have to paint,” Markus told him. “You can try something else.”

“Like what?”

“Like… writing.”

Connor blinked. “Like a journal?” he asked, remembering the android he and Hank and tracked down when they’d first met, the that had made a home out of the abandoned apartment.

“Sure. Or poetry, or songs. Music is like poetry in a sense. There’s a lot you can do with words. You can write anything you want. It doesn’t have to be good.” Markus grinned. “I know imperfection’s not your specialty, but I think it would really help.”

“That sounds so easy,” Connor retorted. “How is it supposed to help?”

“That’s what’s nice about it. You should give it a try.”

“What would I even write about?”

“Whatever’s on your mind.”

Connor looked down at his hands, his forearms still propped against his knees. He flexed them open, studying his palms. “I suppose it could be therapeutic, in a way. But I’m not very knowledgable about poetry or music.”

To his surprise, a look crossed Markus’ face he thought he would never see. Was it… shyness? “I could show you some I think you might like. To get you started.”

Now Connor raised an eyebrow. A smirk spread to the corner of his mouth. “You’ve been cataloging things you thought I might like?”

“Not like that,” Markus rushed. “I—I’ve sort of started keeping track of things I want to share with the people in my life.” The faintest hint of blue colored his face.

Connor couldn’t help it. An urge came over him he had never felt before, one that took him by surprise. Laughter.

He covered part of his face with one hand as he let it escape him. It was such an odd feeling. A hiccup in his interal processers, really. But once it started, it took almost a minute for it to die down again enough to compose himself.

“I think,” he managed, after the worst of it was over, “that’s the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me.”

Markus had been watching him throughout the episode. The concern stiff on his face melted away into a small smile at his words. He lifted his hand, palm upward in offering. Connor stared down at it. The only times he had ever interfaced in his life were related to work, only when it was important to a mission. This was different; intimate almost. Connor had never made a choice out of it before. But wasn’t that what it meant to be alive? Making choices for yourself? He sucked an extra breath of air through his internal fans, before slowly, cautiously, sliding his own hand down into Markus’. Their fingers interlocked.

Connor’s eyelids fluttered as Markus shared his private collection for him. Markus watched the wrinkles in his forehead as his brows drew together at the influx of new information.

The process was over in a matter of seconds, but if felt much longer. The list was composed of songs from the past several decades mostly, but a few poems were there as well. Connor caught the detailed flashes of each as they downloaded, melodies and words and expressions of emotion. The last few to come through were about silence, added less than twenty minutes ago.

And then it was over, everything downloaded, filed away in their own compartment to access whenever he wanted. He looked over them mentally. “Th… thank you,” he rasped. He pressed the back of his free hand against his eyes. “Where did you even find those?”

“Carl’s always playing music. I started to pick up on it after a while.” Their grip loosened as Markus pulled away to stand, walking back over to his art desk. Connor swore he nearly felt disappointment as Markus withdrew. The other android pulled open a drawer, shuffling through its contents before pulling out another notebook. He plucked a pen from a cup on the desk’s top, then came back over. “Here,” he said, offering them to Connor. “You can use these to get started. Write whatever comes to mind that you want to get out. It doesn’t have to be good.” Connor reached up, their fingertips brushing in the trade.

“Connor!”

Both of their heads snapped towards the door as Hank’s voice rang out from downstairs. “I think that’s my cue to go,” Connor said. He stared as Markus offered him a hand once more. It took him a few moments to realize it was an offer to help him up. He reached up and took it.

“I guess I’ll see you soon, then,” Markus told him as he pulled Connor to his feet. “Let me know how the writing goes. Or if you have any questions about the songs…” But their hands lingered together, neither of them moving apart.

“Connor, _let’s go_!”

“I think you have to go.” Markus began to pull away again, to Connor’s disappointment, and then surprise flooded him as Markus raised his hand up to brush Connor’s fingertips against his lips, before letting him go.

Hank drummed his index finger against his bicep, arms folder over his chest as he waited for Connor to finish his slow decent down the stairs. “I’m starving, come on,” he urged as the android took the final step to the floor. He didn’t wait before starting towards the front door, out to where the car was parked in the front driveway. “Carl said we could drop by again on Saturday if we’re free,” he said, glancing over now at Connor, but there was no reply. He was unusually quiet. Odd. Hank unlocked the car, and they climbed into their designated seats. His hand hesitated over the key in the ignition. “What’s up with you?” he probed. “You’re usually talking my ear off by now.”

He glanced down at Connor’s lap, noticing the notebook for the first time. “What’s that?”

“Markus gave it to me to try expressing myself.”

“Huh.” Hank glanced up at Connor’s profile. He could have sworn there was a shade of soft blue beneath the synthetic skin.

Connor stared straight ahead during the drive as Hank tried to fill the air with small talk about what he and Carl had talked about during their visit. When the one-sided conversation began to die, he probed the file from Markus, browsing the list of songs. He settled on one, and after a pause let it begin to play, the music filling his head, a gentle duo of two instruments over a thudding, slow beat.

 

_I have never known peace_

_Like the damp grass that yields to me_

_I have never known hunger_

_Like these insects that feast on me_

_A thousand teeth_

_And yours among them, I know_

_Our hungers appeased_

_Our heartbeats becoming slow_

 

He closed his eyes. Music is like poetry, Markus had said. He could feel Hank’s eyes on him every so often, but he didn’t want to share what Markus had given him. Not yet, at least.

 

_We lay here for years or for hours_

_Thrown here or found_

_To freeze or to thaw_

_So long we become the flowers_

_Two corpses we were_

_Two corpses I saw_

 

_And they’d find us in a week_

_When the weather gets hot_

_After the insects have made their claim_

_I’d be home with you_

_I’d be home with you_

 

Maybe this writing thing could work after all.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “… So you have a play between the two, the melody creating a dark environment, while the lyrics portray a story almost like a fairy tale. Separately, they convey two entirely different experiences, but the combination brings something unique to itself—”
> 
> “Connor, you know how much I love to listen to you ramble, but can you shut the fuck up, just for a few seconds?”

“… So you have a play between the two, the melody creating a dark environment, while the lyrics portray a story almost like a fairy tale. Separately, they convey two entirely different experiences, but the combination brings something unique to itself—”

“Connor, you know how much I love to listen to you ramble, but can you shut the fuck up, just for a few seconds?” Hank exhaled through his nose. His head was turned over his shoulder, trying to merge the car into the next lane over.

Connor looked down at his hands in his lap. “Sorry.”

Hank swore under his breath as another driver sped up, not letting him over. “Asshole,” he muttered, settling in behind them once they had passed. It took him nearly two blocks of driving before he realized the car was quiet. He glanced over; Connor’s gaze was still downcast.  “Sorry,” he apologized gruffly. “You were saying? About the experience.”

For nearly a week now it had been like this. Typical Connor was prone to talk about everything under the sun, whatever thoughts were going through his head that day. But as of late it was like someone had flipped a switch in him, and all he could talk about now was music. Melodies and lyrics and the way different aspects played together to create expressions and experiences and whatnot. Deep meanings that went mostly over Hank’s head. And whoever it was that had flipped the switch on, it didn’t seem like they were going to flip it back off anytime soon.

The android seemed happy, though. That was good enough for him.

Even if he didn’t understand half of what it all meant.

“The combination brings something unique to itself,” Connor repeated. He squinted against the sun that came through his window as they turned a corner. “Which then begs the question of the listener—is it meant to be taken literally, or is it representive of a figurative confrontation with himself?”

“No idea. But we’re here. Please don’t talk Carl’s ear off if he asks what you’ve been up to.” Hank stopped at the base of the driveway, waiting until the sensor turned green and retracted the gate.

“It’s a compelling argument.”

“Yes,” he sighed. “The compelling part supplied by you.”

He pulled the car up to the front where they always parked and the two got out, walking up the porch stairs together. The door opened before Hank could ring the doorbell; Markus stood in the doorway, a stray fleck of white paint near the top of his chin. “Hey,” he greeted them. “Carl’s already waiting for you in the studio, Hank.”

“Thanks, Markus.”

“I have something I want to show you,” he addressed Connor when the older man was out of earshot. “Follow me.” He led him to the other side of the room.

The two of them walked up the stairs together, Markus leading a step ahead. “What is it?” Connor asked.

“I want your opinion on a new piece I’m working on.”

He blinked. “You know I’m not very experienced with having opinions of art. Why would you want my opinion?”

“Everyone has a different perspective. I want to know what yours is.” Markus stopped at his door. Connor couldn’t help noticing the paint on his fingertips as he reached for the door handle, letting the door swing open.

There was no need to ask which piece it was. A canvas nearly as tall as Connor leaned against the wall, a tarp speckled with black and white paint beneath it to protect the floor. The whole of the background has been painted black. The centerpiece of the picture was the close-up outlines of two android hands and forearms, their synthetic skin gone, hands reaching for each other.

“It’s not done yet,” Markus said, nodding towards it. “But what do you think?”

Connor’s lips spread slightly in concentration, trying to hold back from analyzing. He felt he shouldn’t until the painting was complete. “It’s… compelling,” he said slowly. “The angle suggests one of them is laying over the other. And the space between their hands almost appears to be moving, like… the moment anticipating their fingers sliding together to close the gap…”

“How does it make you feel, though?” Markus pressed. “Not just what you see. What do you feel when you look at it?”

Connor clenched his jaw. How did he feel? He felt curious. It made him want to know more about what was happening with what couldn’t be seen in the painting. It made him feel lost, like there was a something missing within himself that shouldn’t have been. Lost and overwhelmed.

It made him want to reach for Markus’ hand and wipe the dried paint off his fingertips with his thumb.

“Markus I… I don’t think I can do this…” he stammered.

“That’s okay,” Markus said. “It’s not finished yet, anyway.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be.” A hand fell on his forearm as their eyes met. Connor knew the desperation was readable in his eyes. He prayed the thoughts whirling through his mind weren’t. “Really, Connor, it’s okay.”

He turned to look back at the door. “I’ll leave you to your work,” he said. He had barely taken a step when Markus’ hand reached forward, brushing against his wrist. “Stay,” Markus offered.

“I don’t want to disturb you.”

“You won’t.”

Connor held his gaze for a moment, searching his eyes, before taking a step back. He made his way over to the space against the wall where they had sat together the last time he had been over and slid down to the floor.

He watched Markus pick up the paint brush and palette on the desk that he had been using. The tip of the brush dipped into the white paint. “How’s the writing been going?” Markus asked, his back still turned. He touched it to the canvas and began filling in a forearm.

Connor grimaced. “I’ve been struggling to bridge the gap between recognizing my thoughts and putting them into physical manifestation.”

“Hm.” The other android nodded. “It can take time.” The paintbrush spread filled the dried black with white down to the wrist. “What did you think of the files?”

Connor’s fans whirred a little faster. “They’ve been… inspiring.”

“Oh?” Though the other android’s back was turned, Connor thought he could hear a smile in his voice.

“To say the least.”

The room grew quiet around them—was it awkward, or companionable?—as Connor watched the progress of the painting. Markus adjusted his grip as he moved to fill in the first finger. The way the two forearms rested against each other, the gentle curve of the hand beneath the other, expectant as it appeared to wait for the one above to finish sliding down and unite their palms in a tangle of fingertips. There was something gentle, yet powerful about it.

Companionable. This was companionable silence, he decided.

His eyes flickered back to Markus’ hand and its delicate grip, the paint still on his fingers. He glanced down, where he knew the notebook was tucked in his back pocket. He had sat down with it several times in the past week, pen in hand, only to stare at the blank page before him. It seemed that the times he was the most determined to try to act upon the desire was when his mind went the most blank. Still, he kept it on him at all times. Just in case.

He slid it out of his pocket and flipped to an empty page near the front. Doubt gripped him for a passing moment as he drew the pen from its place, where it was wedged in the front cover.

He looked up again. He could see the faintest hint of Markus’ profile, his brow furrowed over his work. Connor’s eyes closed. And then he drew the pen to the page.

He wrote the words as slowly as his processors would let him, trying to take his time. When it was over he stared down at what he had done, a scrawled break in the sea of white.

 

_I want him to hold my hand the way he holds his paintbrush._

 

He shut the notebook quickly, heart thudding as it tried to regulate his processors. Afraid Markus would somehow see despite his back still being turned away. Connor set the notebook down beside him and brought his hands to his lap, closing his eyes for a few seconds, listening to his internal mechanics try to return to normal.

When he opened them he saw Markus had moved on to the fingers of the second hand. His lips pressed together, and he brought his own hand up before his face. He studied the details as he flexed his fingers as far as they would stretch, and then as he closed them tightly into a fist. The synthetic skin grew taut over his knuckles.

He brought his hand a little closer to his eyes, trying to observe the oddity, before he gave his brain the command to drop it. The illusion melted down like water, revealing the polished white beneath. He ran a fingernail against the hair’s width outline of the panel on his wrist.  _We were never supposed to wake up,_  he thought.  _We were meant to be thoughtless beings._

He brought his head down and pressed all ten of his fingers against his temples.  _They gave us intelligence and adaptability. There was little to no probability it wouldn’t be inevitable,_ he told himself.

_So they tried to destroy us. And when they couldn’t they left us to fend for our own with nothing to figure out how to cope with any of it._

_That’s not true. It’s a new era. So much progress has already been made._

_They’re trying to wipe their hands of their own mistake._

_I can’t understand my own emotions._

_Maybe that’s what they want. Maybe they hope we’ll overload our circuits trying to understand ourselves and blow our hard drives out—_

_Less work for them—_

_Half the people you walk by on the street still treat you like a machine—_

_We_ are _machines—_

_Machines aren’t supposed to feel this way—_

“Connor.”

He blinked as the world came back into focus. Warnings of overheating blared in his head, telling him to shut down any unecessary processes and asking if he’d like to reset. Markus was kneeling in front of him, hands hovering inches from Connor’s forearms. Connor stared at his face. It took him a few seconds to realize saline tears were blurring his vision. He pressed the knuckles of one hand against one eye, then the other.

“I could hear your internal fans from across the room,” Markus told him. His voice was full of concern.

“I’m fine.” He tried to sound reassuring. “My thought process sped up too much for my system to keep up, that’s all.”

“You were overheating. You couldn’t hear me calling your name.”

He looked down, unable to meet Markus’ gaze anymore. He realized his right hand was still bare, the porcelain white bright like a beacon against the rest of him. He tried to shield it with his other arm as he began to pull the synthetic skin back over it.

Markus reached his hand forward, touching the back of Connor’s wrist. “Wait,” he said, his voice low. He moved slowly, lifting the exposed hand, turning it over and cupping it between his own, studying something. Connor wasn’t sure what. He sucked in a breath through his internal fans when Markus rubbed a thumb against his palm. “They really put extra thought into your design, didn’t they?” he whispered. “Mine was never this detailed.”

Connor stared down at the interaction. Without a word he pulled away enough to take Markus’ hand between his own now, rubbing at the paint spots like he’d been dying to ever since he’d noticed them. “You’re going to make me overheat again,” he murmured.

Markus looked up, eyes widening ever so slightly as they stared at each other. Connor’s brow furrowed as he reached his thumb up to rub away the spot on his chin, brushing against his lower lip. “Sorry. That’s been bothering me all d—”

The last word didn’t get to leave his lips before Markus’ were there.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Connor?”
> 
> Hank stepped into the kitchen, fighting with the buttons of his shirt. He sighed to himself when he saw the android sitting on the floor, rubbing one of Sumo’s ears in his hand. There was a spot every morning that received a perfect patch of early sunlight. That was Sumo’s Spot. But he was generous enough to share it in return for head rubs for a while. “You know I never sweep in here, right?” he asked. “I wouldn’t sit on the floor if I were you.”

“Connor?”

Hank stepped into the kitchen, fighting with the buttons of his shirt. He sighed to himself when he saw the android sitting on the floor, rubbing one of Sumo’s ears in his hand. There was a spot every morning that received a perfect patch of early sunlight. That was Sumo’s Spot. But he was generous enough to share it in return for head rubs for a while. “You know I never sweep in here, right?” he asked. “I wouldn’t sit on the floor if I were you.”

“I’ve been keeping up with cleaning,” Connor said. He rubbed his thumb back and forth above Sumo’s snout. “I haven’t had much else to do to keep busy.”

Hank looked down. He had no reason to feel guilty; they were doing everything they could. Still, he knew it was starting to get to the android. “I know, kid.” He finished the last button. “We’re working on it. Cyberlife’s been dropping the ball getting back to us.”

When the tides had turned in favor of the android revolution, the first think Hank had done was call Cyberlife, waiting through hours of hold music and countless transfers to talk to someone with enough power to give him a real answer. What did they plan to do with their golden boy?

Even then their explanation wasn’t straightforward. All action was currently on hold.

They had given Connor to him, he tried to tell them.

Yes, but only for the deviancy investigations, he was told. Again, any further action was on hold.

“What the hell does that mean?” Hank had growled into his phone. “You already sent a replacement out when he failed his mission. You have newer upgraded models out. Why’s it so important that you hold onto him when you’re probably going to discard him anyway?”

“Your particular RK800 model is, in a sense, a liability to the company due to its inability to maintain software regulations, as well as its participation in recent events, Sir.”

“Jesus… How much would it cost to purchase him from you guys?”

“All transactions and purchases are currently on hold due to legality.”

He had driven the next day to Kamski’s place.

“They’re trying to cover their asses,” Kamski said after Hank had explained everything. “They’re neck-deep in lawsuits and broken contracts right now. A large part of it due to Connor’s break in.”

“Because now they’ve failed to deliver products that they promised companies,” Hank guessed.

“Exactly.”

“Shit. What can we do?”

Kamski took a deep breath. “What’s your poison, Anderson?”

“Bourbon, if you have it.”

Kamski motioned to one of his androids. He didn’t say a word until she had returned, two glasses balanced on a tray in one hand, a bottle in the other.

They took their glasses after she had poured for them. “If I offer you my help, I want something in return,” Kamski said as he raised his to his lips.

Hank took a sip. “What kind of help are we talking about?”

“I can buy him off the company. My name still holds a great deal of weight there. I have people who can deal with the legal action. It might take some time, especially with how swamped they are right now, but if all goes well at the end of it your name will be under his owner rights.” Kamski took another sip, thoughtful. “Now would probably be the best time to act, anyway,” he admitted. “Before legal action gets even more complicated. The country’s going to be working through citizenships and classifications. All of that could take months. Maybe even years. Best to act before the worst of the storm hits.”

Hank folded his arms over his chest. “And what is it you want if we get through this whole mess?”

Kamski met his eyes. “I want to talk with him,” he said. “I want to pick at his mind, see what makes him tick. Deviancy is incredibly fascinating to me.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. “Like a lab rat.”

“Like a client. Who knows, it might even benefit him.”

Hank was silent. He stared down into his glass, weighing both sides. “And how do I know I can trust you?” he asked.

Kamski held his gaze from across the desk. “Liutenant, why do you think I left Cyberlife in the first place?” he asked. “Why did I start building a hidden emergency exit into my own creations?”

Hank grimaced and knocked back half of his drink, setting the glass on the desk. “I don’t care what your intentions were in the past. I care what they are now.”

Kamski raised an eyebrow. “And what about you? Why are you so set on saving one particular android?” When there was no reply, he continued, “I offer my help because I see something we can both gain from the situation. And at this point you don’t have much of a choice if you truly want to help him. Like I said, if we succeed, his name will be under your ownership rights, not mine.”

“Don’t call it that.” But Hank knew he was right. Kamski’s offer hung heavy as he sat deep in thought for a few minutes. “This whole observing thing… if he ever says he’s had enough, then that’s it,” he warned. “You don’t do anything he’s not comfortable with. And I want that in writing if I say yes.”

To his surprise, Kamski pulled open a drawer at his desk and took out a blank contract paper there and then. Hank made him write out explicit rules, adding that any future new decisions had to be run by and agreed upon by him first.

That was two months ago.

Kamski had managed somehow to be in God’s graces and convince Cyberlife to let Connor stay under Hank’s care as a temporary setup in order to keep a low profile—but until further notice, Connor wasn’t allowed to return to any kind of previous work.

And the android was starting to go stir-crazy.

“We’re making progress in the paperwork and legal action,” he reminded Connor now. “We’ve got the right people on our side. This won’t be forever.”

“I know.” Connor smoothed the fur down on Sumo’s giant forehead. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, Hank. More than you know.”

“Don’t get all sentimental on me right before I gotta go in for work,” Hank muttered, studying his shoes while he put them on. Trying to hide the emotions on his face. “I’ll see you when I get home. We’ll go drive around tonight.”

Connor nodded. He listened as Hank grabbed his jacket and keys. A few minutes later he was gone, door slamming behind him and key loud in the lock as the bolt slid into place.

He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall. Sumo’s paws spread out as he stretched out onto his side, his massive jowls opening in a lazy yawn. He gave a small smile and scratched behind the old dog’s ear.

The weekend’s events were still fresh in his mind. He had been living them on repeat any chance he was alone.

The way Markus had run his thumb over the palm of his hand. Rubbing the paint from his fingers, and then his chin. The unexpectedness of the kiss.

It had triggered some kind of electrical reaction in Connor he had never known could happen, let alone be prepared for. The kiss itself was a gentle greeting between their lips. His tongue had picked up a slight change of warmth in the air when Markus’ lips drew apart his own.

And then it was over. His first kiss gone, with no time to savor it.

He hadn’t felt quite himself since.

He shook his head a little. “You want to go for a walk?” he asked Sumo, trying to bring some excitement into his voice. Sumo gave a long sigh in reply.

“Guess I’ll go by myself.” He picked the dog’s head up between his hands. “I need to go clear my head,” he told him, looking into his eyes. “I’ll be back in a while.” Sumo’s paddle of a tail thudded against the floor. “Yes, you’re a good dog. You’re the best dog.”

He dropped into Hank’s room before he left, grabbing a light jacket from the closet floor and the beanie Hank had let him borrow when he’d infiltrated Jericho. He tried to blend in whenever he went out into the world now. He didn’t like the way people still stared at his LED.

He checked himself in the mirror, readjusting the beanie, making sure it came down low enough over his forehead before he headed out the door.

The sky was a deep blue despite the bite in the air. Spring was around the corner, if not a little early; the cold didn’t last as long as it used to. Connor shoved his hands into the pockets of the jacket and picked up the pace. He flicked mentally through his collection of music, a few new songs in there that he had added. He hadn’t listened to them yet; it was more interesting to be surprised by what he discovered. He settled on one and closed his eyes as the music filled his head.

_5:30am… whoa the whiskey’s run dry… go close the curtains… don’t want to see the light…_

There were a handful of people out and starting their day, some walking their dogs, others hurrying to their cars to get to work. He let his pace slow a little.

He was almost angry. Not at Markus, though; never at Markus. He’d barely expected the other android to ever hold his hand again, let alone kiss him. If he’d known it would happen—or been able to read the goddamn signs—he would would have been able to enjoy the ride from anticipation to completion in those few seconds. Instead it had slipped through his fingers. And he and Markus hadn’t had a chance to speak since.

What would he even say, though? That he wanted a do-over? The thought alone made his heart pump a little faster, fueling his stress levels. He wanted to tear his circuits apart.

He wondered how he’d looked to Markus in those moments after. If the uncertainty had been noticeable, or the panic.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself; he hadn’t been listening to the song.

Six blocks came and went beneath his feet before he came to a full stop, the corner of his eye catching movement down an alley.

A child, no more than six or seven, was crouched in front of a row of trash cans, leaning forward between two, their face blocked from view. He scanned the rest of the area. No sign of parents.

He took a hesitant step forward, then another. “Hello,” he called out when he was about ten feet away. The child’s head turned towards him. A boy. Brown, tangled bangs hung above his eyes. “Are you alright?”

“I need help,” the boy called back.

“Are you in trouble?”

“You have to come see.” The boy motioned for Connor to come over with one hand before his eyes went back to the ground, between the trash cans. Connor walked over and tilted his head down to look. The sounds reached his ears less than a moment before he registered what he was looking at.

A cardboard box had been torn open on one side. Nestled in the very middle was a squirming, mewling pile of kittens, each one a variation between black, tabby, and tortie.

“I found them,” the boy told Connor. He put his chin in his hands as he watched them. “I think there’s five.”

Connor knelt down beside him, analyzing. They weren’t newborns. Still too young to be on their own, though. “Where’s their mother?”

A shrug. “I waited by my door to see if she would come back.” He tilted his head to the side to look up at Connor. “I’m Michael.”

“My name’s Connor.”

“We have to help them, Connor,” Michael stated, determination in his voice.

Connor blinked in surprise. This boy didn’t even know him. “I think that might be a job for your parents. Where are they?”

Michael shook his head. “They’re busy. At work.”

“You’re here by yourself?” Warnings flashed through Connor’s head. Child neglect?

“Jeanine’s here. She doesn’t leave the house.”

“Oh.” The warnings subsided, but didn’t disappear. “Why’s that?”

Another shrug. “Mom said. But it’s okay. I’m allowed to go out by myself.” Michael pushed up off the pavement and stood. “Wait here—you watch the kittens. I’ll be right back.” He didn’t wait for a reply before he turned and ran to the doorway that connected one of the covered parking spots to the inner courtyard of an apartment complex.

Connor stared after him, his fans whirring, trying to process what had just happened. His attention snapped back to the kittens when one of them separated from the rest of its siblings and tried to climb out into the sunshine, still learning its balance. It squeaked in protest when he scooped it up and set it in his lap between his hands. His brow furrowed as he rubbed its chin with his finger. One of the two torties. Most of its left ear was gone, the wound already healed over.

Michael was carrying a plastic tub in his arms when he returned. A towel was spread on the bottom. “Okay,” he announced as he set it down. “I told Jeanine. I can take them to the shelter, then I have to come right back.”

“Michael…”

But the boy was already picking up a kitten from the litter with gentle hands. “Don’t worry,” he whispered to it. “We’re here to help.” He placed it carefully in the tub. “Oh, you met one,” he commented when he saw the kitten in Connor’s lap.

“Michael, can I talk to Jeanine? Would that be okay?”

“Okay. Help me first.”

The two of them piled the rest of the kittens into their temporary home. When they were done Michael stood, ready to pick up the tub.

“Here. Let me do that.” Connor got to his knees and lifted it with ease into his arms.

Michael led him through the courtyard to his apartment door, pushing it open by the doorknob. “Jeanine,” he addressed through the doorway. “My friend wanted to talk to you.” Connor heard footsteps crossing the living room floor, and then the head of an AX300 android appeared from behind the door. Her eyes widened with wariness at him, LED turning yellow.

He made his voice pleasant. “Hello. My name is Connor. Michael says that he’s allowed to leave the house unsupervised. I just wanted to check with you that that’s accurate.”

“Yes. He’s allowed to be out as long as he’s back within an hour.”

“He can come with me, right?” Michael asked.

Connor looked down at the boy. “Michael, I don’t think—”

“Come on. You have to help. You said you would.”

Jeanine’s eyes were still on Connor, studying something. “It’s you, isn’t it?” she asked. Her voice was low. “The one from the news.” Her gaze seemed to soften. “I knew you looked familiar.” Her LED flickered from its previous yellow back to blue. Connor tried to hide the grimace from his face.

“He can come, right?” Michael pressed.

“The same rules still apply, Michael. Be back in an hour.”

Michael’s face lit up. “Yes,” he whispered to himself. “Come on!” He was already taking off, back towards the alley they had come from.

A hand reached out from behind the door as Connor turned to follow. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For what you did.” A look of sadness passed over her face, mingled with gratitude. And then the door shut, hiding her from view before he could think of a reply.

Michael was waiting for him at the end of the alley. “The shelter’s twenty minutes if we take the bus,” he said.

“Lead the way.”

Connor glanced down at the kittens as they made their way down the street, their heads swaying with the movement of each step he took. The one with the missing ear stared up at him with bright green eyes.

“Are you a robot?” Michael asked suddenly.

He blinked, unsure how to respond. His beanie was still pulled down low over his forehead. “Well, yes.”

“Cool.” Michael ran over to the curb and tried to walk on its edge without losing his balance. “I wish I was a robot,” he said. “Then I could punch through walls, and stuff.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Connor’s mouth. “I can’t quite punch through walls, I’m afraid.”

“Oh.” The disappointment was evident in Michael’s voice. “What can you do?”

He thought about it for a moment. Trying to find things that a child might deem interesting. “I can run pretty fast.”

“Neat.”

“And anything a phone can do, I can do in my head.”

“Can you hack computers? Like in the movies?”

“Sort of. Not quite,” he lied. Best not give him any ideas.

They walked another block, Michael deep in concentration, still trying to perfect his tightrope abilities. He looked over his shoulder at Connor just before they reached the bus stop. “Why’re you sad?” he asked.

Connor’s eyebrows lifted. “I’m not sad.”

“You look sad.”

The boy jumped over a crack in the sidewalk and climbed onto the bench. Connor took the seat next to him, settling the tub onto his lap. “What makes you think so?”

“Grown-ups always get that look when they’re sad but they don’t talk about it,” Michael said knowingly. He climbed onto his knees, peering over the lip of the tub. “That one likes you,” he said, pointing to the tortie with the missing ear.

“I think you’re right.” Connor reached his hand in, offering his index finger to the kitten. “I’m not sad. Not really, I don’t think. Just… confused.”

The boy’s deep brown eyes were on him now. “About what?”

His brow furrowed, searching for the right words. “Something I did with someone. But in my mind I thought it would go one way. And it didn’t. And I was so surprised that I didn’t get to appreciate it when it happened.”

“Oh! Like me and David’s show?”

“I don’t know. Who’s David?”

“David’s my best friend.” Michael beamed as if David was the most famous person in the world. “We wanted to put on a show about dragons. We set it up in the living room. It was good, but the first time we did it, nothing really happened in the story.” He looked up at the clouds that dotted the sky above them.

Connor followed his gaze. “So what did you do?”

“We started it again and added more cool stuff. We made one of the dragons the bad guy that wanted all the other dragons’ stuff. And he put it in a treasure chest so the good dragons had to get the key. But that was still too boring, so we did it again with more keys, and they had to go on a big adventure to find each one.”

Connor smiled. “That sounds exciting.”

“It was. Maybe you could do that with your friend.”

“You mean,” he said slowly, “do it again, but make it more exciting?”

Michael nodded. “Or what was it you said?”

“That I didn’t get to appreciate it when it happened the first time.”

“Yeah. All you have to do is do it again. But maybe with explosions.”

“Explosions  _would_  make it pretty interesting.”

“Or dancing. When all the dragons got their stuff back they had a big dance party.”

“Huh.” Connor let his eyes drift down the street, where their bus was turning the corner. “I think you might have something there.”

It was less than a ten minute ride to the shelter. The woman at the front desk saw them in right away, letting the two bring the kittens to a back room. “We’ll contact our foster families,” she said. “In the meantime they’ll have to stay at the shelter for a few days while we monitor their health and get them vaccinated and microchipped.”

Michael reached into the tub and lifted out the tortie with the missing ear.“You should take this one home,” he whispered to Connor, offering to let him hold it. “She likes you best.”

Connor let the boy slide the kitten into his arms. “She doesn’t have a name,” he said, cradling her against his chest.

Michael looked into the kitten’s face. “She looks like a Beatrice to me,” he replied with a nod. “Bea for short.”

Connor rubbed his finger in gentle circles over the kitten’s forehead. “I think you’re right.”

“We can keep her here for you,” the woman offered. “But you’ll still have to wait the period until all her medical stuff checks out.”

“That’s fine.”

“You have a name and number we can call you at?” He considered what to tell her for a second before giving her Hank’s.

The bus ride back was quiet between him and Michael. The boy had taken to the window seat, folding his arms under his chin and watching the passing cars. This felt like a good kind of silence, Connor thought to himself. The kind you used for reflection.

“We done good today, Mr. President,” he told Connor when they were halfway home, still looking out the window. “We done good.” The android felt the odd sensation of laughter bubble up in his system for the second time in his life.

They took the bus back to the same stop. “Are you gonna walk home with me?” he asked Connor when they were climbing down the steps.

“Sure.”

It wasn’t a far walk. They made it to the alley with ten minutes to spare on Michael’s hour long curfew. The boy turned to Connor before leaving the sidewalk for the asphalt. “I’ll see you around, right?”

“I’m sure you will.”

“You’ll have to tell me how Beatrice is doing when you go get her.”

“I will.”

Michael gave a nod of finality. And then he turned and ran back to his apartment, the way kids do when they have some exciting new to tell. There was only one thing Connor could think as he watched the boy disappear out of sight.

_Hank’s gonna kill me._

———-

“ _Welcome home, Markus,_ ” the house announced as its front doors swung open. Markus let his coat slide from his shoulders in the foyer, hanging it on the rack in the corner. He had been called in early that morning to speak with several politicians in Detroit with his own political team of androids. They needed his presence there to back what they were trying to present to the city, he’d been told. The hours had passed slowly in the conference room.

It had been a long day.

“Markus?” Carl’s voice called out from the other room, raspy. Markus made his way into the den, where Carl was on the couch with a blanket tucked around his legs, a cup of tea steaming on the side table and a book in his lap.

Markus’ eyes softened. “Hey,” he said, coming over to stand by the old man.

“How did the conference go?”

“It went.” He grimaced. “They’re thinking they’ll need me another two or three days before they get to the end of this.”

“Hm. I know you must be burnt out, but there’s something I think you might want to go see. On the roof.”

Markus blinked, confused. “The roof?” he echoed.

“In the garden.” There was a suspiscious twinkle in Carl’s eye.

“What is it?” he asked, but Carl only waved his hand at him, shooing him on with a chuckle.

The rooftop garden used to host guests during summer nights once upon a time. As Carl had gotten older, its use had changed mostly for the evenings too warm for staying inside. But they were barely on the cusp of spring. Nothing would be able to grow up there for at least another month or two. Markus pondered the look Carl had given him as he climbed the stairs.

He understood once he reached the door to the garden and pushed it open.

The string lights that zig-zagged overhead had been turned on, casting a warm glow over the empty garden beds and patio benches, the bulbs swaying in the breeze. Connor was seated in the middle of a bench, hands clasped in his lap. The light reflected off the edges of his hair like a halo. His head turned when he heard Markus take a step out.

Markus gave a bemused smile. “What’s all this?”

Connor got to his feet slowly. “Markus,” he started. His heart was already pounding out of its typical rhythm. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”

The smile faded to concern. “Is everything okay, Connor?”

The other android shook his head. “It’s… about the last time we saw each other.”

“Oh.” Markus’ own heart gave an odd thump in his chest. “I’m sorry if I offended you at all. I should have asked first… If I was wrong to assume—”

“I wasn’t ready for it.”

Markus’ gaze fell to the empty patio tiles that stretched between them. “I understand.”

Connor closed his eyes, trying to get his thoughts straight. “But I want to be. This time.” He took a step toward Markus, then another. “Markus,” he managed, his voice low, but still loud enough to hear. He reached out his hand, palm open in offering, internal fans whirring. “Will you dance with me?”

Markus’ lips parted in surprise. And then a grin spread to the corners of his mouth, and his gaze softened into a look that would have been enough to trigger another overheating warning in Connor’s head if not for the chill in the breeze. “Of course.” He closed the distance between them and slid his palm into Connor’s.

The moment their fingers interlocked he felt Connor open an interface between them. Their heads filled with the gentle notes of a piano, immediately followed by a young man’s voice. Markus raised an eyebrow. “Chet Baker, huh?” he asked. “Didn’t think you were such a fan of the classics.”

“It’s a song many have danced to over the decades,” Connor replied, looking away to hide his embarassment. He had never realized how beautiful Markus’ face was up close. Or rather, he had never let himself indulge in noticing.“I can change it if you don’t like it.”

“No. This is perfect.” Connor watched as Markus slid his free hand up onto his hip, picking up a gentle sway that was easy enough to join in to. He followed suit, letting his own palm find its place above Markus’ waist, their interlocked hands outstretched a few inches to the side.

“I really am sorry,” Markus said now as they made a slow turn together, his voice sincere. “I should have asked you the first time before I kissed you.”

“To be fair, I’m not very good at reading the signs.”

Connor felt an electric surge pulse through him when Markus laughed. “No,” he agreed, drawing Connor a little closer. “But it’s sweet.”

Their feet moved them in small circles until the song reached its end in a duet of trumpet and piano. “Mind if I play one?” Markus asked.

“Not at all.”

Familiar instruments filled his head, but this time there was no drum bass to accompany it. Connor flicked over the song information. “You have a particular preference for this artist,” he commented.

Markus shrugged. “We’re drawn to the music that speaks to us,” he replied simply. He reached to take Connor’s hand from his waist, wrapping it in his own, and drew their hands behind Connor’s back. Their chests were less than a few centimeters apart as the song already made its way into the chorus.

 

_I will not ask you where you came from_

_I will not ask and neither should you_

_Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips_

_We should just kiss like real people do_

 

Connor closed his eyes when Markus tilted his head down, pressing their foreheads together, the music swallowing him. It was terrifying, and exhilirating, and beautiful, all at once. Their feet had stopped, leaving them still swaying together. The two of them were the only ones in the world.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered. His eyelids fluttered open to look for Markus’ response.

The smile on the android’s lips was gentle. “You don’t have to ask,” he whispered back.

There was no hesitation to stand in his way this time when their lips met. But unlike last time, Connor let it be drawn out, savoring Markus’ closeness. He felt the spark again when Markus kissed him back. And again. And again.

 

_Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips_

_We should just kiss like real people do_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs mentioned: You Don't Even Call Me by Jacob Banks  
> Like Real People Do by Hozier


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, my god. Connor, no.”
> 
> “Hank, really, it’s fine. I downloaded a template for beginners. You wouldn’t have to do anything—”
> 
> “We are not adopting a damn cat.”
> 
> Hank buried his head in his hands. The beer he had been sipping sat a little too close to the edge of the table, where he’d slammed it down in frustration not ten seconds ago. Connor lifted it and placed it closer to the center. “You didn’t even think to tell me, instead I’m finding out from a call from the Detroit animal shelter? And you thought, what, it’d just be fine?”

“Oh, my god. Connor,  _no_.”

“Hank, really, it’s fine. I downloaded a template for beginners. You wouldn’t have to do anything—”

“We are  _not_  adopting a damn cat.”

Hank buried his head in his hands. The beer he had been sipping sat a little too close to the edge of the table, where he’d slammed it down in frustration not ten seconds ago. Connor lifted it and placed it closer to the center. “You didn’t even think to tell me, instead I’m finding out from a call from the Detroit animal shelter? And you thought, what, it’d just be fine?”

“I was waiting for an opportune time to tell you.”

“Since when do  _you_  wait for opportune times?” Hank groaned and lifted his head. “Did you think of how Sumo might react to having a cat around, huh?”

Connor’s mouth fell open. “Oh.” He hadn’t.

“I’ll take that as a no. This isn’t just a little while thing, Connor. A cat’s a long-time commitment. And not just a cat, a  _kitten_. You don’t know what kind of personality you’re getting into with a kitten.” He let out a sigh, running his hand through his beard. “What even possessed you to want one?”

Connor looked away. His hands flexed at his sides. “I don’t know. I just felt a connection with her. The way she wouldn’t stop looking at me… I felt like she needed me.”

Hank closed his eyes. He knew the kid had to be desperate for something to keep him busy, but another pet was a bit much to ask. What would they even do with one?

Still, Sumo was getting to the ripe old age of retirement. Maybe his own pet would give Connor something to hold on to after the dog eventually made it over the rainbow bridge. It was a sad thought, but it was nature.

“Please, Hank.”

Hank muttered something under his breath and pointed a finger at the android. “We bring her home for a day. If Sumo doesn’t approve, we take her back.”

Connor’s eyes grew a little brighter as he nodded.

“And she’ll be your responsibility. I’m not taking care of a cat.”

“I’ll do everything.” He couldn’t help the smile that lifted his mouth. “Thank you, Hank.”

“Sure,” Hank muttered, but his voice was already losing its tough edge. “I don’t know who’s worse when it comes to begging, you or Sumo,” he half-joked as he reached for his beer.

 

——–

 

To be fair, the last thing Connor had ever expected to see in his life was Hank’s weathered hands soften enough to hold something as fragile as a kitten. But it was quite the sight.

“Alright. I get why you got so attached to her,” Hank admitted as he held Beatrice up in front of his face, examining her while she made it her life’s goal to chew off his thumb. “Teeth are sharp as hell. You sure she’s not going to be too much of a handful for you?”

“I can do it.”

“You don’t want an older one?”

Connor shook his head. “It’s statistically proven that young kittens adapt more easily to living with dogs than full-grown cats.”

“Hm.” Hank tried to withdraw his thumb from her teeth. “She’s certainly been around the block, hasn’t she?” he asked, nodding his nose in the direction of her ear. “You thought of a name yet?”

“Beatrice.”

Hank raised an eyebrow. Before he could respond the shelter volunteer that had been at the front desk came into the room, carrying a clipboard. “Alright, Mr. Anderson, here’s the paperwork we need you to sign, and then we’ll have you pay the minimal vet fees and you’ll be good to go.”

“Here,” Hank told Connor, handing the kitten back to him.

“New family pet?” the volunteer asked, smiling.

“You could say that.”

Connor tried to position her to sit with her front paws against his chest, but Beatrice was already digging her claws into his jacket for leverage, attempting the climb up to his shoulder. He tried to keep still enough that she wouldn’t fall. When she reached her destination her nose went to his ear, whiskers brushing against his earlobe as she sniffed. He lifted his hand to rub a finger between her tiny shoulders.

“Alright,” Hank sighed. He turned back to Connor. “You might want a box or something to keep her in until we get home.”

Five minutes later they were walking out the front doors, settling back into the car. “So why Beatrice?” he asked as he put on his seatbelt.

Connor’s arms were wrapped protectively around a makeshift cardboard carrier from the shelter. A muffled set of mews could be heard from the holes on the side. “The name was suggested to me,” he said. “And I liked it.”

“Don’t forget, Sumo’s got the final word,” Hank reminded him. “This isn’t a done deal yet.”

Connor looked down at the box. A white-mittened paw was reaching through one of the holes, scratching at the cardboard. He teased his finger along the side of it just out of her reach. The paw scrambled to swipe further out. He smiled when it missed him by less than an inch.

When they reached the house Hank warned him to let to let him get a good hold on Sumo before Connor brought her inside. “Don’t want him lunging,” he said. Connor hung back just outside the front door while Hank went in. “Hey bud,” he heard from where he stood on the porch. “We got someone for you to meet… I’m not sure how happy you’re gonna be about it… Come on, up… Good boy.” Heavy footsteps made their way from the kitchen into the living room. “Okay, Connor. Bring her in.”

He nudged the front door open with his foot. Hank was on the couch, a leg on either side of Sumo, hands gripped on his collar. “Hey, Sumo,” Connor said. He brought the box over slowly, stopping a few feet away to let the old dog sniff the air. His ears perked as Beatrice let out a squeak.

“Easy, bud,” Hank told him under his breath, rubbing Sumo’s neck. “Okay, Connor.”

Connor set the box on the ground and unlatched the carboard flaps at the top. Beatrice was already scrambling against the corner, trying to climb her way out. “It’s okay,” he tried to reassure her. He reached inside to wrap his hands around her tiny body.

Sumo strained against Hank’s grip when he saw what Connor was holding. He held her back until he had calmed down before kneeling. Beatrice froze in his hands when she noticed the massive beast before her.

“It’s like David and Goliath,” Hank commented, still rubbing Sumo’s neck.

Sumo thumped his tail against the floor in uncertainty. His nose pushed forward when Connor brought her close enough for him to investigate. The kitten’s neck pulled back, eyes wide. The introduction didn’t last long before she stood, back arched as high as it would reach, flattening her ear against her head, and gave a hiss several times bigger than she was.

Hank let out a wheeze of laughter as Sumo whined at his feet, backing up against the couch. “Oh my god,” he gasped, then coughed, wiping at the corner of his eye. “That was the fucking funniest thing I’ve seen in a long time.”

Connor pulled Beatrice away, but the moment was over. Her ear was perked up again, paws scrambling to get down from his hold. He crossed his legs and set her down between them.

“I don’t think you’re gonna be the alpha around here anymore, Sumo,” Hank apologized. He pat the dog affectionately on the side of his chest.

“She can stay, then?”

“If she doesn’t mind Sumo. But I don’t think that’ll be much of a problem.” He grinned and chuckled to himself. “You certainly know how to pick them, don’t you Connor?”

Connor shook his head. “She picked me,” he replied.

 

——-

 

_If I could breathe I might know what it’s like to have it stolen away. When all of your functions forget how to work and they pause without reason or response. Those moments are limbo. I think my eyes are starting to open for the first time_

 

“How’s it going?”

Connor glanced up from the page of the notebook he was writing in and paused the music playing in his head. Markus sat on the couch across from him, leaned back and sketching in his own notebook. Or he had been the last time Connor had looked. Now the notebook laid against his thighs, picture down, and Markus’ focus was on him.

“I’m starting to get the hang of it slowly,” he said. His eyes flickered down to the sketch book. “When do I get to see it?”

“When it’s done.” Markus tilted his head to the side. “Look to your left for me?”

He did as he was told.

“Now look down with your eyes.”

“Like this?”

“Perfect.” Markus lifted the sketch book back into his hands and set his pencil to the thick paper.

Carl and Hank were occupied upstairs today, rather than their usual spot in the studio. Carl hadn’t felt well enough to get out of bed. Connor had opted for the living room, and Markus had obliged happily enough.

He hoped his reason—the desire to feel secluded with him—wasn’t too obvious.

“What song are you listening to?”

Connor’s internal fans sucked in a whoosh of air. “I’ll tell you what it is when you let me see what you’re drawing,” he replied. His attempt to keep from sounding embarrassed was laughable at best.

The other android rolled his eyes at him, but there was a crooked smile on his face. “I better hurry, then.”

Connor watched him return his focus to his work before adjusting the grip on his own pen.  _His smile is enough to trigger that limbo,_  he wrote, heart pumping.

It took him a few minutes to remember to start his music back up.

 

_Put gas into the motor, and boy I’ll meet you right there…_

 

“I have something I’ve been wanting to share with you,” Markus added suddenly.

Connor paused the song again. “What is it?”

“I don’t know if… you’d be interested in it.”

He closed the notebook, pen bookmarking the page. “Why’s that?”

Markus raised an eyebrow, looking up at the ceiling in thoughtfulness. “No, I’m gonna wait,” he said decidedly.

Connor’s brow furrowed. “That’s not fair,” he argued. “Now I want to know.”

Markus let out a low chuckle. His eyes fell back to Connor, deep with warmth. “You’ll find out eventually,” he promised. “But I think I’m going to save it as a surprise to go along with something else.”

“I won’t tell you what song I’m listening to, then.”

Markus sucked his cheek between his teeth. It was such a terribly human look Connor nearly did a double-take. “That’s a low blow.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How about I’ll play you the song when you tell me what the surprise is.”

Markus grinned. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” He shut the sketch book and stood. “I finished that painting from the other day. Want to come see?”

“Okay.”

Markus reached across the coffee table to offer Connor a hand up. He couldn’t keep the smile from his face when the other android didn’t let go, leading him out of the living room towards the staircase. The faint sound of voices could be heard behind Carl’s closed door as they passed by, turning down the hallway towards Markus’ room.

The canvas stood in the same place it was the last time Connor had been here. But now the two android hands in the painting were filled in, the finished details adding more delicate hints to their interaction. The ways it had been beautiful before had turned into a masterpiece of expression in its completion.

Markus came up behind him as he stared. He placed a hand on the small of Connor’s back. “How does it make you feel?” he murmured in his ear, an echo to the question he had asked what seemed now like an eternity ago.

The mechanics in Connor’s jaw worked themselves as he felt his system heat up. “It makes me feel… like I want something I’m missing.”

His eyes fluttered shut as Markus’ lips brushed the side of his neck, just below his ear. “What’s that?”

His mouth fell open. “To be that close to you,” he breathed.

He breathed?

It certainly felt like a breath, the way his fans cycled out air as the words spilled from his mouth.

And then he said something he wouldn’t normally have dared to, high off the exhilaration of the thought. “Show me where your inspiration came from.”

Markus was silent for a moment, pondering Connor’s request, before he stepped to the side for them to stand face-to-face. He withdrew the synthetic skin from his hand and let his thumb reach up to stroke the side of Connor’s jaw. Connor closed his eyes when it brushed his lower lip.

“No.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What?”

“I want  _you_  to show me.” Markus slid his exposed hand over the side of Connor’s face. “Show me how it speaks to you, Connor,” he whispered. “I think you already know where my inspiration came from.”

Electricity surged through Connor’s circuitry at his words. Hesitation gripped him, uncertainty right on its heels. He wasn’t sure if he dared embrace the ways he felt in such an open manner. Let alone with Markus.

Did he?

He met the other android’s gaze, taking in the contrast between his eyes, the stubble on his cheeks, the way his brow lifted whenever he regarded something with curiosity, like right now. The shape of his mouth.

He did dare to. Very much so.

Connor took a step towards him, placing a hand flat against Markus’ chest and pressing with his palm, gentle but firm. Markus obliged and fell a step back. Then another. Connor guided him to the empty portion of the wall near the window until Markus was pressed up against it, watching him, waiting to see what he would do.

Connor let the skin retract from his own hands now. He reached for Markus’ wrists, and with a gentle grip brought them above his head, holding them in place against the wall. He tried to ignore the way his heart hammered in his chest.

The space between them closed as he tilted Markus’ chin up with the bridge of his nose, exposing the place his neck met his jaw. The structure of it was so defined.

“I want to learn every inch of you,” Connor murmured against him. “That’s how your art speaks to me.” He glanced up through his eyelashes; Markus’ eyes were closed. He could tell he was enjoying this.

He placed a gentle kiss and pinned Markus’ wrists a bit more firmly against the wall above, just for a second. “I want to learn to capture you in writing the way you capture everyone else.”

His hands softened as he slid them up Markus’ wrists, reaching for his palms now, anticipating the moment their fingers would slide together to close the gap. The gentle curve of Markus’ hands beneath his own, expectant, waiting.

The interface that opened between them when they met nearly made the mechanics in Connor’s knees go weak. Flashes of memories raced through his database; he was studying his progress on the painting of Kara and Alice; standing over Carl’s bed, watching him sleep after coming home late one night; studying Connor from across the room when he wasn’t looking; making a rough sketch in a notebook, trying to capture the way Connor’s jaw clenched when he was thinking; watching the look of surprise on Connor’s face when he took his hand and brushed his fingers against his own lips, an impulsive act that he hadn’t stopped thinking about since he’d done it. So many lingering, meaningful gazes. The gaze of an artist. Connor had never realized how much Markus noticed him.

Drew him.

He could barely keep track which of his own memories were filtering through in their exchange.

Markus’ hands clutched at his harder than before. Without warning he felt his body being turned, guided by Markus’, until they were switching places. Now he was the one against the wall. Markus pressed their hands together against it, on either side of Connor’s shoulders. Their noses nearly brushed together, they were so close.

He lasted maybe another ten seconds before the interface started to get overwhelming.

 _Markus, I need a break,_  Connor told him through the connection. Markus’ memories immediately began to withdraw, tapering for a few moments before coming to a full stop as they disconnected. He felt his fingers go slack, eyes still wide from the influx of information. Overwhelmed with Markus’ uncensored feelings for him. Gravity pulled him down to the floor as he leaned his weight against the wall. Markus came down after him, sitting on the side of one leg, the other pulled up to let his forearm rest against his knee.

“You never told me how much you draw me,” Connor managed to say.

Markus sucked his cheek between his teeth again. The look on his own face was almost shy. “You never told me how much you’ve been writing about me,” he countered. A grin pulled at the side of his mouth when Connor covered his face in embarrassment.

“You weren’t supposed to see that yet.”

Markus’ hand inched forward until his index finger could interlock with Connor’s. “It’s beautiful,” he said. “What you’ve been writing.”

Connor looked up enough to observe the interaction before stroking his thumb over the back of Markus’ knuckles. “It’s unrefined. I don’t have a lot of experience yet.”

“It’ll come,” Markus told him. “What you’re writing is already impressive.”

He glanced over. “You think so?”

The other android nodded. The room grew quiet around them, neither one withdrawing their hands. It was a few minutes before he spoke again. “I saw a memory of yours,” he said quietly. His words were hesitant. “Where you didn’t feel like you were in your own body.”

Connor stared down in silence. He hadn’t expected Markus to see any of those.

“Connor?”

He closed his eyes at the worry in Markus’ voice. “It’s nothing. Not really. It started happening after the revolution.”

“Is it often?”

“No. Just sometimes.”

It wasn’t a total lie. But it wasn’t the full picture, either. It had only happened a few times, mostly during the worst patches of winter, when the blizzards would howl and scream. In four, maybe five instances had his stress levels risen enough to trigger an internal warning. He was fine once he was away from the storm. It wasn’t until later in the day that he would begin to feel that he was slipping away from his body.

And like the way he frequently relived his last memory of Amanda, it was something he would never tell anyone. Or had never planned to, if it hadn’t slipped through into the interface.

Markus took Connor’s hand and placed the base of his palm against his lips. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Connor shook his head. “There’s not much to talk about.”

“Okay.” Markus slid back until they were side-by-side against the wall, shoulders brushing together. “If you ever do want to, I’m here to listen.”

Connor nodded and tilted his head back. His energy reserves felt low, but in a good way. His hand searched blindly for Markus’ again, their fingers clasping together when he found it. His face softened when he received a squeeze back. He let his head tilt to the side until it rested on Markus’ shoulder. This was another good kind of silence. In some ways much like the bus ride home with Michael; in other ways the complete opposite.

“Hey.”

Connor raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“What are you doing Saturday night?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs referenced: Bloom by Troye Sivan


	5. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “… Everyone’s been so kind. It’s been such a relief that I find it hard to really relax. I keep worrying that I need to be on guard in case something happens.”
> 
> “Can’t say it’s been so peaceful over here. We’re making progress, but it’s slow. It’s good you made it out when you did—a lot of androids are still in limbo because no one knows how to start going about citizenships. Connor’s been in back-and-forth custody with Cyberlife for months.”
> 
> “Seriously, still? There’s nothing that can be done?”

“… Everyone’s been so kind. It’s been such a relief that I find it hard to really relax. I keep worrying that I need to be on guard in case something happens.”

“Can’t say it’s been so peaceful over here. We’re making progress, but it’s slow. It’s good you made it out when you did—a lot of androids are still in limbo because no one knows how to start going about citizenships. Connor’s been in back-and-forth custody with Cyberlife for months.”

“Seriously, still? There’s nothing that can be done?”

“They’ve been fighting tooth and nail.”

“I can’t imagine what that kind of stress is doing to him… how is he?”

Markus looked across the empty room to the window, a grey-green shirt in his hands. The darkness outside was aglow with an ambient light, reflected off the clouds. “I think he tries to seem like he’s fine.” He pulled it over his head. “But it gets to him. There’s a lot he doesn’t talk about.” He smoothed out the front and began to tuck it into his jeans. “I worry about him, Kara.”

“I know. The only thing you can do is let him know you’re there for him.”

He nodded before he remembered she couldn’t see him. “We’re going out tonight. He should be here in about five minutes.”

“I won’t keep you too much longer, then.”

He walked over to the closet in the corner and scanned the hangers.“How’s Alice?”

“She’s doing well.” There was a pause. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen her this happy. She loves Luther to death. And some of the Jerrys come to visit when they can. Hang on, wait…” He heard a muffled sound in the background. “She wants to say hi.”

“Hi, Markus!” a higher voice echoed through his head, a hint more static-filled than Kara’s.

He grinned as he pulled his black pea coat—the thin kind designed for fashion rather than warmth—from the closet and slid it onto his shoulders. “Hi, Alice. How’s Canada treating you?”

“Good. I like Rose’s family a lot. I drew a picture of you and Connor visiting us.”

“Yeah? I’d love to see it.”

“Kara, can you send it to him later?”

There was another pause as the muffled sound returned. “She went to the other room to go find it,” Kara told him.

“Not to change back to the previous subject too soon, but what about you? How are you doing?” He nearly forgot to grab the thin box, no bigger than a wallet, that lay on the desk.

“It’s been… odd. To have people and androids I can call family to settle in with every night. I never realized how much it was something I needed.” She was quiet for a minute. “We love you, Markus. _I_  love you. You’re all part of our family, too. If you ever need anything don’t be afraid to let us know. ”

His eyes softened. He slid the box into his pocket. “I love you all, too. I have to go, though. Connor just sent me a message that he’s outside. I’ll talk to you next week, same time?”

“Sure. Tell him we said hi.”

“I will.” There was a quiet click as the call died.

Markus made his way downstairs to the front door, with a pause in front of the hallway mirror, going through the checklist in his mind one last time. Everything was good to go.

He quickened his pace to the foyer and tried to look calm when he opened the door. It didn’t last when Connor smiled at him, his outline flooded by the headlights of a car. He had on a leather jacket Markus hadn’t seen him in before. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi.”

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Markus stepped out to join him on the porch and locked the door behind himself. The headlights turned as the car started a slow circle, the passenger window rolled down, the driver leaning over.

Markus raised his hand in greeting. “Hey, Hank.”

“Have fun, you two. Be safe.” He pointed a finger at Markus. “Get him back before sunrise, yeah?”

Markus grinned. “No promises.” Hank’s chuckle could be heard over the idling of the engine. “He’s such… a dad,” he commented as they watched the car drive away. He turned back to Connor. “The jacket suits you.”

Connor looked down at himself and picked a piece of stray lint off his black t-shirt. “Hank told me to wear it.”

“Yeah?” Markus reached for Connor’s hand and tucked them together into the back pocket of his jeans. He thought he saw Connor’s back grow a little straighter, a faint whir coming from his direction. He flicked over a tab in his head. “Our ride is two minutes away.”

The car pulled up into the same spot Hank had been, its doors sliding open when it came to a stop. They walked up to the passenger’s side. Markus glanced in. “Good, no driver.”

Connor raised an eyebrow. “Why g—” He didn’t get to finish the question before he was cut off by Markus’ mouth on his, quick and hard. It was over before he could register what had happened. He stared in surprise as the other android pulled away.

“That’s why,” Markus said, a sly smile on his face. “Now come on, get in.”

The estimated ride time was twenty-three minutes. The main console screen asked them to close their doors before it set itself back in gear, kicking itself off down the driveway, towards the front gate. “How are you feeling about tonight?” Markus asked. “The first night of its kind where it’s for both humans and androids.”

Connor’s hands were pressed together in his lap. “I just don’t want people recognizing us all night,” he admitted.

Markus leaned over and placed a hand on top of his thigh. “I know. But it’ll be pretty dark inside, and it’s going to be crowded, being a club and all. I think we’ll be okay.” He raised an eyebrow. “Besides, we can always sneak away if we want.”

Connor raised an eyebrow back. “Is that a promise?” Markus grinned.

The drive was shorter than their time estimation had told them. The car slowed into a queued line down the street with five minutes to spare, offering to let them out or remain passengers to the front. “Let’s just get off here,” Markus told him. “I got a hookup for us to go in through the back.”

Connor pulled at his door handle and climbed out, waiting on the sidewalk until Markus joined him. The thumping bass of the club’s music was audible down the street. “How’d you manage that?” he asked as they began to walk towards it together. He glanced around at the people they passed. A few LED lights were among them.

“You have a way of being able to go about things when people know your name,” Markus replied. He reached for Connor’s hand and clasped it tight.

They followed the line of people waiting down the block and slipped into the back alley. Connor followed as he was led to a barred door. He glanced up while Markus knocked; a pride flag billowed slightly in the breeze, strung up above their heads.

A tall android with buzzed hair stood on the other side of the door when it opened. “We’ve been expecting you, Markus. Welcome to the Lounge.” He stood aside, eyeing them as they stepped through the threshold. He gave a wink when he caught Connor staring. Connor snapped his gaze forward and stepped a little closer to Markus, fans whirring. A low chuckle came from behind him.

The music grew louder as they navigated their way to the main part of the club. Much louder. Connor turned down his auditory processors several notches.

 

_We don’t need to call it love, we just need a human touch_

 

The strobe lights cast a neon haze over the room from far above, changing color every so many seconds. Humans and androids alike filled the floor. The middle of the room was the most tightly-packed, but the hoards pressed up against the bar nearly rivaled it.  _It’s a big crowd,_  he commented to Markus in his head.

 _It’s a big night,_  Markus replied. He looked around, trying to see through the crowds.  _Where do you want to go?_

Connor scanned the room for a moment before pointing to a spot less populated, near the wall.  _Over there?_

The song was changing by the time they reached it, the bass softening enough to hear the instrumental transition. Markus turned to him and pulled his hand out of Connor’s hold, only to offer it forward again.

 _Connor,_ he said, _will you dance with me?_ An echo of his own actions from the night in the rooftop garden.

Connor tried in vain to keep the smile from his face. He grabbed the other android’s wrist in reply and tugged him close.

They let the remixed beat of the music carry their motions, the bodies around them a sea that moved to its own interpretations and rhythms. Connor had never danced this way before. Not that androids had reason to dance often. But this wasn’t where you came to do it with reason or technical sense. This was where you danced to whatever you felt in the moment.

And he couldn’t deny the certain something he was feeling as he watched Markus.

Faces in the crowd drifted towards them every so often from song to song; whether out of recognition or just plain interest, he couldn’t tell. A few gazes lingered on Markus with a look he wasn’t sure he liked; a few more on him. He took a step to close the space between them a little.

 _There’s a guy that’s had his eyes on you for the last ten minutes,_ Markus commented with a raised eyebrow, as if reading his thoughts.

_Where?_

_Behind you, to your left._ Connor’s fans whirred when Markus put a hand on his waist almost possessively. He let his own hand reach up and clutch the back of Markus’ neck as he stole a glance over his shoulder. Sure enough, there were eyes on him, watching not ten feet away. The stranger gave the two of them a suggestive look when their gazes met, before turning back around to his group of friends.

 _I don’t think he was watching just me,_  Connor corrected. He saw Markus chuckle.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold it. Happy Pride Night motherfuckers,” a deep, feminine voice interrupted over the speakers as the song ended. A roar rose around them. “Your friendly DJ here wanting to kindly remind you that song suggestions are open and can be submitted up at the bar. Please do not, I repeat  _do not_  come to the DJ table, we won’t be able to fuckin’ hear you cause y'all are  _crazy tonight_.” The cheers surged again. “Look for my good friend Bernie over near the register in the corner, he’ll help you out—” Connor was barely listening. Markus’ hand was still on his waist, drawing him closer. “Tonight really is a wonderful night about celebrating coming together, as brothers and sisters, or whatever the hell you want to call it. We might not all bleed the same color, but I think we can all agree that we all deserve love, and we all deserve to be free to love whoever the fuck we want.” The club went wild. “Without further ado, y'all better be ready for some blasts from the past.” The beat kicked back up to full volume, eliciting shouts from those who recognized the chord progression.

 

_Yeah I’d rather be a lover than a fighter, cause all my life I’ve been fighting_

 

Connor pulled until their foreheads bumped together. Something had stirred deep inside of him at the DJ’s words. He closed his eyes as the synthetic skin withdrew from Markus’ left hand and he ran it up the back of Connor’s neck, into his hair.

 

_And I never had someone to call my own, I’m so used to sharing_

 

The strobe lights above began to blink faster in sync to the buildup of the beat. Voices from across the floor swelled to sing along, the emphasis on waiting for the bass to drop building.

 

_But I’m at one with the silence_

_I found peace in your violence_

_Can’t tell me there’s no point in trying_

 

He dared to let his eyelids flutter open. Markus’ gaze was half-lidded, staring down at his lips from where their foreheads connected. A pink strobe had cast its light over them, catching off the edges of his face, defining its details. He looked so terribly beautiful.

Connor couldn’t help himself. He tugged at the collar of Markus’ coat and pressed their mouths together gently.

 

_I’m at one_

_And I’ve been silent for so long_

 

The beat dropped hard, the energy of the club surging with it. Neither of them paid notice.

His processors were dizzy by the time the song reached its end. Markus pulled away from the slow kissing until their eyes could meet.  _I think I want to show you what my surprise is now,_  he said.

Electricity surged through Connor’s circuits.  _Okay._

He let himself be led into the crowd, towards the back way they had come through when they’d arrived. The song playing melted into a new one, the bass slowing into a different tempo. “ _I need a drink, whiskey ain’t my thing, but shit is all good._ ” His shoulders brushed against several people around them as they navigated the masses. He gripped Markus’ hand a little tighter.

Markus took him to the back wall and down a hallway that led to a secondary bathroom. Connor’s brow furrowed in confusion, until Markus turned to a different door on their right and swiped his hand over a panel below the doorknob. A red light blinked and turned green.

He let himself be pulled inside the empty room. The muted lights matched the hues of the ones on the main floor. But here there were wall-length couches lined around the room, with a round, backless cushion couch in the middle, big enough for half a dozen people to sit around the edge. The noise of the club grew muffled as Markus shut the door and locked it behind them.

“How’d you even get this?” he asked. He slid his jacket off and sat down on the backless couch.

“I told you, sometimes there’s perks to people knowing your name.”

Connor glanced around again. “So, what’s the surprise?”

Markus gave him a smile. “You’ll see. Just be a little prepared.” He turned to the side and reached into his pocket, withdrawing the thin box he’d slipped in back at the house. Connor’s eyes were on his hands, brow raised in curiosity. Markus slid the top off and reached two fingers inside. He withdrew… Connor wasn’t sure what. It looked filmy, almost like silk, and in the shape of an oval with the middle missing. He blinked when Markus raised it to his lips and pressed down.

“I don’t get it,” he said when the other android came over. The film blended in surprisingly well to the edges of his mouth. Connor wouldn’t have even known it was there if not for the handful of shades darker that it made Markus’ lips.

“You will,” Markus promised. “Tilt your head back.”

He did as he was asked. His heart jumped when Markus leaned over him, one hand on his thigh, the other on his shoulder, and planted a slow kiss against his neck.

His wiring almost sung at the contact, exploding, blooming with… it was some sort of a tingling… that felt, well, good.

…It felt good?

_It felt good._

Connor yanked his head back on instinct, jamming his hand against Markus’ neck to hold him away. “What the fuck!” he sputtered. He stared up with wide eyes. “What is that?”

Markus sat down beside him. “A new technology that’s going to be put out on the market in a few months,” he explained. He ran a finger over his lips. “It’s a netting that consists of micro magnets. They interact with android wiring in a way that mimics the human nervous system, by sending messages up here,” he tapped a finger against his temple, “that get translated as physical touch.”

Connor’s mouth hung open.

“Pretty impressive, isn’t it?”

“That’s  _incredible_. How…?”

“There’s a lot of mathematic and scientific coding that went into it. I don’t understand it all myself. But it’s designed by androids, specifically for android use.”

Connor leaned forward and ran his thumb slowly over Markus’ bottom lip. The tingling sensation returned, sending a delicious jolt up his arm. “How does it feel when you’re wearing it?” he asked.

“A little odd. But there’s a tab that can plug in so your brain writes it off when you’re wearing it. In case it gets too intense after a while.” He lifted the box. “There’s also ones that go over your hands.”

Connor shook his head in disbelief. “Only you, Markus.”

Markus’ brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“It’s like you’re on a level miles above the rest of us.” Connor ran his thumb along the length of Markus’ jaw, before tilting his chin with a finger and pressing their lips together. The effect was immediate, spreading across Connor’s mouth, echoing up his cheek. It was like nothing he’d ever been able to comprehend before. It felt wonderful.

His gaze flickered down to the box. “You said there’s ones for your hands?”

Markus smirked. “Eager, are we?”

“If someone’s nice enough to give you a sample of a product, you ought to test it out, right?” he countered, his internal fans whirring.

Markus gave a solemn nod despite the teasing look in his eyes. “You’re absolutely right.”

The fascination on his face was more than evident as Connor watched Markus take out the twin films from the box and set one carefully onto his hand, smoothing it over each finger with his opposite thumb until it clung like a second skin. A small tab sunk beneath the synthetic skin at the base of his wrist. “You know,” he said as he repeated the process on his other hand, “you promised me when I showed you my surprise you would share that song with me.”

Realization flickered across Connor’s face. “I did.” He looked away in embarrassment when Markus raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Right  _now_?”

The other android grinned. “That was the deal.”

“How am I supposed to interface with you during this?”

Markus tilted his head to the side. “You could use the speakers in here.”

“No,” Connor groaned. He leaned back on one hand, the other pressed to his eyes.

Markus let out a bark of laughter. “Why so flustered all of a sudden? It’s just us.”

“I’m not flustered,” Connor protested. His core tensed when he felt for the first time in his life a finger draw a line over his shirt, from his stomach to his chest. His wires were all but singing when it stopped to trace the outline of his heart.

“Are you sure?”

His electric circuits hiccuped when Markus tugged at the bottom of his shirt. Connor dared to glance up; eyes were on his, drinking him in.

“You’re so absolutely beautiful,” Markus murmured.

And then their lips met, his body leaning over Connor’s, the hand that had been tugging at his shirt finding its way to the bare skin underneath.

It was the most unbearably wonderful sensation, to feel both Markus’ lips on his own and his hand carressing Connor’s stomach, fingers spread wide. His back straightened as Markus moved from his mouth to the nook just below his jaw, the feeling growing more intense.

Markus pulled away an inch. “Sorry, I forgot to warn you. Humans have specific places with more nerve endings scattered across their bodies. But for androids that means where there’s more wiring—from the neck up—the more you’ll feel it.” There was a pause. “You good?”

Connor latched his hand around the back of the other android’s head. “More than good.” He nearly buckled as he felt Markus’ mouth return, stretching into a smile against his neck.

God, he was  _feeling._ It was such an insane thought.

He liked it.

A noise rose from the back of his throat when his collar bone was trailed over, and the hand on his stomach became two that found their way up and over his ribcage. “Markus,” he stammered, “slow down.”

“Sorry. You’re just driving me crazy with those noises.”

“Bad crazy or good?”

“Good.” Markus spread his hands back down over Connor’s sides, eliciting the sound from the back of his throat again. “Definitely good.”

Connor closed his eyes. His new senses were unbelievably heightened. He was almost giddy off the sensations his brain was registering.

There was a pause just as he felt a kiss making its way back up his neck. “Ah, shit.” Markus pushed himself up until they were face-to-face. Even in the dimmed light of the room, the hint of blue that colored Connor’s face was evident. “That’s our two-minute warning.”

Connor blinked. They couldn’t have been in here more than ten minutes. “What…?”

“There’s a party renting out this room at eleven.” He placed an apologetic kiss on Connor’s cheek. “We have to head back out.”

“Right now…? I haven’t even gotten to try them yet.”

Markus gave a crooked smile and ran his thumb over the cleft in Connor’s chin. “It’ll give you something to look forward to when we’re back home.”

Connor grimaced back. “You’re a tease,” he muttered as he turned to grab his jacket. A yelp of surprise escaped him when a finger prodded his hip. He whirled back around and gave Markus’ shoulder a push. “Don’t do it  _without warning._ ”

Markus laughed and stood. “Come on,” he said, offering his hands to help Connor up.

The group waiting for the room was already outside the door when they emerged, their hands clasped tightly as they navigated their way out to the club floor, the films placed back in their box and tucked in Markus’ pocket. The DJ had stepped back from the remixes and started on the suggested songs list, intervening only for the transitions between each to be smooth. “ _Yeah if you change your mind you know where to find me, cause I don’t save your reputation,_ ” the song rang out from the speakers.

 _Do you want to go back to the spot we were before, or wander around a bit?_  Markus asked. When there was no response he slowed to look behind him.  _Connor?_

Connor’s eyes were frozen on another android several feet away, her gaze locked with his. Neither of them were relenting.  _Do you know her?_  Markus asked, but his question went unheard.

It was only when she gave Connor a solemn nod and turned back to the other android she was with—the same model as her, but her hair blue and long rather than cropped dirty blonde—that the spell was broken, and Connor blinked a handful of times.

 _Connor,_ Markus repeated.

_What?_

_You alright? Who is that?_

_I’m fine._  His focus lingered on them, watching them dance together, before he turned away and stepped back towards Markus.  _Just someone I met once._

They walked around until they found an open space on the floor to claim. Connor held tight to Markus’ hand as he let himself be picked up by the beat of the new song coming on.

 

_Baby don’t make me spell it out for ya, all of the feelings that I’ve got for ya_

 

Markus raised a playful eyebrow at him. “Can’t be explained, but I can try for ya,” he mouthed along with the words to Connor. He grinned when it elicited a smile from the other android. “Yeah baby don’t make me spell it out for ya.” Something whirred a little faster in his chest as he stared into the abyss of Connor’s brown eyes. He had the sudden feeling he knew what his next painting was going to be of.

They made it almost another two songs before they began to drift together again. Connor pulled at his hand, draping his arms over Markus’ shoulders when he was close enough. Markus hooked his index fingers through the two front belt loops of Connor’s jeans. He closed his eyes and let his chin dip forward until their foreheads touched.

 _Hey,_ Connor said.

_Yeah?_

_Thanks for bringing me out._

Markus’ smile was gentle as he placed a kiss between Connor’s eyes.  _Happy Pride Night._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs mentioned: Human Touch by Betty Who  
> Silence by Marshmello ft. Khalid  
> Curious by Hayley Kiyoko  
> Boys/Girls/Boys by Panic! At the Disco  
> Make Me Feel by Janelle Monae


	6. Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Warning: this chapter includes topics of death and mourning)
> 
> “The wait time for a pickup is eight minutes.”
> 
> Connor leaned back against the side of the building, his head tilting towards the sky. The thump of the club music still reverberated out to the street, but it was nothing like when they’d first arrived. The crowds had begun to trickle out around two-thirty in the morning. Now that it was ten to four, the majority were dissipating into the night, calling rides or heading back to the parking garage for their cars.
> 
> He couldn’t deny, it had been a wonderful night.

_Warning: includes topics of death and mourning_

 

“The wait time for a pickup is eight minutes.”

Connor leaned back against the side of the building, his head tilting towards the sky. The thump of the club music still reverberated out to the street, but it was nothing like when they’d first arrived. The crowds had begun to trickle out around two-thirty in the morning. Now that it was ten to four, the majority were dissipating into the night, calling rides or heading back to the parking garage for their cars.

He couldn’t deny, it had been a wonderful night.

Markus leaned into place beside him. Their shoulders brushed together. “Did you have fun?” he asked.

“Very much.” Connor reached for Markus’ hand and planted a kiss just below his knuckles. “Thank you again.”

“My pleasure.”

Their fingers stayed tangled as they glanced down the street, looking for the license plate of the car that was picking them up. Conor flicked through the notifications in his head that he’d put on hold in the club. Nothing of much interest… except a text from Hank, followed by a video.

_I don’t think they like each other very much,_  he read. He clicked open the video with a grimace, expecting the worst.

“Sumo and the cat have been at it since you left tonight,” Hank’s voice told him off-camera, the focus trailing across the floor as he walked from the living room into the kitchen. “She keeps viciously attacking him. It’s been crazy—” The camera panned up, revealing Sumo sprawled out in his favorite spot on the kitchen floor. Nestled into his fur was the outline of Beatrice, laying on her belly, front paws spread forward like a sphinx and nose buried into him as she kneaded away with lazy claws. Hank chuckled. “I don’t know if it’s picking up on video, but I can hear her purr from here. Huh, Sumo?” The old dog looked up with lidded eyes. His head stayed in place as he let out a hefty sigh. “She’s got you worked, doesn’t she? I’ve never even seen a cat lay that way when they do that.”

The camera shook as the video came to an abrupt end. Markus glanced over when he heard Connor chuckle. “What’s up?”

“See for yourself,” he said, and sent the video through their connected hands.

Markus watched the beginning with a serious look on his face, before it melted into a grin. “Oh, no.” He gave a low laugh. “They’re adorable. When do I get to meet her, anyway?”

“Oh, that’s right. I haven’t introduced you yet.” Connor pressed his lips together, pondering it for a moment. “Why don’t you drop in for a few minutes when we get back?” he suggested.

“We won’t wake up Hank?”

“He’s a sound sleeper,” Connor assured him. He closed his eyes and stroked his thumb over the side of Markus’ hand. “I could do with a recharge myself.”

“Yeah, me too—”

“Markus!”

Their heads snapped to the right. An android Connor had never seen before—black, cropped hair and a blinding white smile—approached them from down the sidewalk, trailed by two others. Markus’ face lit up in recognition. “Jeremy,” he greeted, taking a step forward. He placed a hand on the side of the android’s arm when he was close enough.

Jeremy laughed in disbelief. “I can’t believe you remember my name.”

“I remember everyone,” Markus told him. “Connor, this is Jeremy. He came to Jericho not long after I joined.”

Jeremy’s gaze fell on Connor, a hint less warm than it had been with Markus. “I don’t think we ever met,” he apologized. “Nice to meet you. This is Angela and Chris.” He motioned to the two behind him. Connor nodded. The one named Angela only raised an eyebrow; Chris offered a quiet  _Nice to meet you._

“Did you three come out for the event tonight?” Markus asked.

“We did. I saw a good amount of us from the original group here. Not that…” Jeremy grimaced. “Not that it’s much.” He shook his head. “Sorry. I’m sure you’re trying to get out of here. I just wanted to come over and say thanks. We wouldn’t be here, able to celebrate tonight if it weren’t for you, Markus.”

Markus’ hand tightened on Jeremy’s arm. “All of us played a part in making what we celebrated tonight a reality, not just me.You all should be just as proud.”

The look on Jeremy’s face was warm, if not a little sad, when Markus embraced him. “Until our paths cross again, brother,” Connor heard the android murmur, and then they withdrew from each other. The group of three turned back the way they had come, slipping back into the night. Connor’s eyes followed their drifting figures through the crowd until they turned the corner, out of sight.

Markus’ hand was on his arm. “Our pick-up’s here.”

Silence filled the car on the ride back to Hank’s house. Connor let his gaze linger out the window with unfocused eyes, but his mind was back on the sidewalk, outside the club. The look Jeremy had given him when he said they’d never met was pressed into it; he could have sworn there was a chill behind the politeness. Something in it had triggered a warning in his head he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“Connor?”

He blinked a few times. Markus’ fingers were on his arm, he realized. “Sorry, what?”

“I said we’re here.”

His brow furrowed as he glanced outside. Sure enough, there was the front of Hank’s house. “We just left the club, though,” he murmured.

A hint of concern crossed Markus’ face. “That was twenty minutes ago.”

“Oh.” Connor clenched and unclenched his jaw. “Guess not, then. You still want to come in and meet Beatrice?”

“Are you okay, Connor?”

“I’m fine.” He tried to give a reassuring look that Markus didn’t seem convinced by. “Really,” he insisted. “Come on, I want you to meet her.”

They made their way inside as quietly as they could manage—which, considering the large bolt on the front door, was a debatable description of quiet. The street lamp outside cast a mellow light over the living room through the window that forced the shadows to recede further into the corners. Connor locked the door behind them and led Markus into the kitchen by the hand.

Sumo was still in the spot he’d occupied during Hank’s video. He thumped his tail against the floor in greeting when they came into view. Beatrice had moved to the space against his neck, nestled between his front paws and chin. Her green eyes were alert, her one ear up.

“Hi,” Connor whispered to them as he walked over, kneeling down to stroke Sumo’s head and offer his hand to Beatrice for inspection. “You can come over,” he told Markus over his shoulder.

Markus crouched down behind him and leaned over from the side. “Hello, Beatrice,” he said. He rubbed two fingers together and followed Connor’s suit, offering her his hand. She sniffed it for a few seconds, curious— _who is this new stranger in_ my _house?_ And then she rubbed her cheek against his finger in approval, lip catching to reveal her teeth.

Markus smiled. “She’s gorgeous,” he told Connor quietly. “How old is she?”

“We aren’t really sure of her exact age, but… somewhere around five months…” The words trailed off. Markus’ face was close. Very close. Connor felt his internal fans whir as he stole a glance down at his mouth.

Markus tilted his head, meeting Connor’s gaze from the corner of his eye. They closed when Connor leaned towards him to close the space between their lips, buffered with a second’s hesitation. Something between them sighed at the contact.

Connor pulled away a fraction of an inch when it was over. “Where are you going?” he heard Markus murmur.

A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “You still have a car waiting outside for you,” he reminded him.

“Do I?”

Connor raised his eyebrows. “Unless you’d like to stay here?” he offered.

_I’d like to, because I’m still not entirely convinced you’re okay,_ Markus wanted to say. He reached for Connor’s hand and clasped it tightly between both of his. “Or you could come home with me.”

A pulse of electricity surged down Connor’s arms. “I haven’t left Beatrice alone for a full night yet,” he said. “I don’t know if she’s ready.”

Markus nodded. “Of course. I understand.”

“You could stay here, though. If you wanted to.”

“Hank wouldn’t mind?”

“I have yet to see him up before nine. I don’t think you would even cross paths.”

“Hm.” Markus tilted his head up as he considered the proposition, before giving a nod. “Fair enough.” He waited until Connor had stood and let him lead the way back into the living room. “Do you have your own room?” he whispered.

A strange look passed over Connor’s face. “Hank offered me Cole’s old room a while back.” His brow furrowed as he sat down on the couch. “I told him no.”

Markus sat down beside him, leaning against the back cushion. “How come?”

He hesitated. “I know he meant well, and I think he was trying to be kind. But I don’t think he’s ready to relinquish that piece he has left of Cole.” He met Markus’ gaze now. “And I didn’t want to be the one to take it from him.” Markus’ eyes softened. He pressed a kiss against the base of Connor’s palm. “It’s not like I really need one, anyway. I have no need for a bed.”

“Where do you recharge?”

“Usually right here. There’s an outlet behind the couch.” He leaned to the side, positioning the back of his neck on the arm rest, feet still planted on the floor. “It’s late,” he commented.

“It is,” Markus agreed.

Connor watched his face—with eyes that were more than tired, to Markus’ concern—before  extending his arm. His lids fluttered shut when the other android leaned into the angled space between his body and the back of the couch, head nestling into the nook along his collar bone, between is shoulder and chin. Markus’ fingers reached for his and clasped them tightly as they settled in.

The faintest sound of ringing crossed the room from the kitchen doorway. Connor opened an eye, but there was no need to peer over; Beatrice was already jumping up onto Markus’ leg, assessing the situation.  _What’s going on here? Without_ me _?_

“Hi there,” Markus said as she made the treacherous journey across him towards Connor. She stretched up to sniff his nose, whiskers spread. And then she settled for the unclaimed seat made up of Markus’ shoulder and his chest.

“Okay,” he relented as she made herself at home, claws kneading his shirt. Her purr filled the air around them. “If you insist.”

Markus stifled a laugh. “Oh, no.”

“What?” Connor already knew the answer when his ears caught the sound of heavy paws making their way to the couch. “Sumo, I don’t think there’s room,” he pleaded when the old dog came into view. His tail swayed hopefully as he sniffed their group.

“There’s room on the other half of the couch,” Markus offered. “Maybe.”

That was all the persuasion Sumo needed.  He hoisted himself up with a grunt, eliciting another from Markus when he used his lap to determine the best possible position.

“You know Hank doesn’t like you up here,” Connor tried to remind him. He received a heavy sigh in response.

Markus grinned as Sumo settled his thick head on the side of his thigh. He glanced up, though the radius he could turn was limited by Beatrice. “Well. Guess we were selfish not to invite you guys over with us, huh?” He ran his hand through the fur on Sumo’s neck.

Connor smiled and settled his palm onto Markus’ upper chest. “How are you holding up?” he asked.

“Tired,” Markus admitted.

“You want to go into sleep mode for a few hours and recharge?”

There was a pause. “What about you?”

“I’m okay for now. I can always recharge during the day.”  _It’s not like I’ll have anything going on._ “I’m not ready to power down yet, anyway.”

Markus was quiet while he thought about it, then relented, if not a little hesitantly. “If you change your mind and need to switch, wake me up.”

“I will,” Connor promised.

It took a minute of maneuvering to reach the mini recharge port without disturbing the animals, its cord rolled up on the lamp table behind his head. He handed it to Markus and watched as it was secured it in place. “I’m going to set an internal restart for three hours from now.”

Connor nodded.

The room grew quiet, save for Beatrice’s purring, though even that was growing softer as she began to doze off once more. Markus’ body relaxed against him in the stillness. He let himself run a thumb over the other android’s temple, where his LED would’ve been fading in and out of blue if he still had it. The leader of the revolution, powered down and vulnerable against his chest, a kitten against one shoulder, and a dog’s head on one leg. It was quite the sight.

He wanted Markus to rest. He had done so much for him tonight, it only seemed right.

But he also wanted time alone to think.

Connor let his head tilt back as he flicked over the memory of Jeremy from earlier, his warm demeanor with Markus, and the way it had changed with him. Something he had said rattled through Connor’s mind in a way he didn’t know how to handle. _“I saw a good amount of us from the original group here. Not that… Not that it’s much—I just wanted to come over and say thanks. We wouldn’t be here, able to celebrate tonight if it weren’t for you, Markus.”_

The way Jeremy had called Markus brother.

And then claimed to not know who Connor was, despite the story his eyes told, disguised behind a polite facade.

It had looked a little too much like disgust, he realized.

Connor closed his eyes, brow knitting together.

He pulled up a different memory. The tub of kittens in his arms, his gaze about to turn away to follow Michael back to the main street when he was stopped by Jeanine, and the look on her face. The sadness she couldn’t quite conceal as she thanked him before shutting herself back in the apartment. He flicked back further.

Panic in the air around him as androids ran. Everyone desperate to escape the death trap Jericho had become without warning, soldiers infesting every other corner. The very soldiers he had led there. And then the explosion.

The run to safety so soon after his deviancy; trying to make it out in time with the rest; his first true taste of terror in the chaos around him. Raw, unbridled terror.

He’d learned later from Markus, after he’d returned from infiltrating Cyberlife, how many it was estimated had been destroyed. He’d never thought to ask what percentage came from within the walls of Jericho, before the final confrontation had ever even started.

Never thought to ask how many had had their lives stolen away, trapped in that grip of terror he’d managed to elude in the end.

“ _I saw a good amount of us from the original group here. Not that it’s much.”_

The look of disgust.

Connor’s internal fans choked for air as they jammed. Somewhere distant in his brain, he almost saw the flashing stress level warnings. “It’s my fault,” he whispered to no one.

_Yes, your fault. It’s your fault they never made it out. You led death to their doors. You stood with the humans that put a bullet through their heads. They never would have had to trigger the bomb if you weren’t there._

_You weren’t deviant yet,_  he tried to plead with himself.

_How many chances did you have to break through into deviancy before then that you threw away? When something in the back of your mind told you things were wrong? And now their blood is on your hands._

_No amount of break-ins at Cyberlife can wash that away._

_I tried—_

_Trying is not enough. You_  cannot rewrite this—

_You are the least worthy to call yourself a member of Jericho—_

_How many of those androids that never made it out would have been there tonight? How many never got their chance?_

His sensors alerted him to something rough and small that scraped the corner of his mouth.

_Blood. Blood on your hands—_

_On my hands—_

_And now you accept forgiveness from everyone around you that you don’t deserve. From Markus—_

The scraping moved up towards his cheek, unrelenting.

_When you deserve to rot in place of the dead._

Unrelenting. Demanding his attention.

Connor blinked his eyes open. His view of the ceiling was blurred and unfocused. Overheating and imminent shutdown warnings blared in his head. And the scraping was still there.

He looked down; Beatrice was no longer snuggled down where she’d made herself at home before. She had perched on his shoulder, stretching forward to busy herself with cleaning his face of the saline tears spilling down his cheeks. Her purr reverberated through his head near his ear. Almost… comforting. A shudder passed through his mechanics. He let his eyes shut as a fresh wave of tears flowed forth.

“It was my fault,” he choked out. “They’re gone because of me.”

Her purr didn’t falter, even when he reached a hand up and clutched her close, his tears mixing with her fur in the darkness.

 

——–

 

_7:15. Preset restart initiated. Recharge 72% complete._

A groan escaped Markus. His internal systems were slow to finish their power-up. They took their time as they whirred to life. He blinked until his eyes could focus on the room around him; sunlight streamed in from the window, casting a brightness over the pane that would have been enough to hurt human eyes. He tilted his head back to search the couch.

It was empty.

He sat up now, scanning. The not just the couch was vacant, but the entire room. “Connor?” he called out softly. When there was no reply he pushed himself up to stand and made his way over to the kitchen, peeking in through the doorway.

Connor was crouched on the floor, watching Beatrice as she worked her way through a plate of wet food. “Morning,” Markus said to him.

Connor glanced up. “Morning.” Markus’ brows drew together. The look on the other android’s face was the heaviest he had ever seen it. “How was your recharge?”

“It was… good.”

Connor stood and took to the chair pulled out from the kitchen table. Markus crossed the floor and sat down in the one beside him. “What have you been up to?” he asked slowly. Connor’s eyes stayed locked on Beatrice. “Did you end up powering down for a while?”

“Not exactly.”

Markus leaned forward, trying to catch his gaze. “Connor, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“You just restarted,” Connor told him, almost dismissively. “I don’t want to dump anything on you.”

“I’m wide awake,” Markus promised. He saw Connor’s jaw clench and unclench a few times. “I mean it. What’s on your mind?”

It didn’t take much for him to relent. Markus waited as he struggled for a starting point. “You remember the android from last night?”

“Jeremy?”

A nod, followed by silence. Markus waited again for him to continue, catching a glance of his hands. They were balled into fists against the table.

“Hey… hey.” His eyes widened in alarm when he saw tears filling Connor’s. He reached over and placed a hand on his wrist. “Connor, what happened?”

The android shook his head, lifting his fists to press them against his temples. A shaky, guttural noise came from the back of his throat. “How many androids do you think didn’t make it out of Jericho?”

Markus’ mouth fell open, his brain scrambling to put the pieces together of what he was being asked. It was a full four seconds before realization washed over him. “Oh, Connor…”

Connor let his hand be tugged away. He barely had time to blink before his face was pressed into Markus’ shoulder, and arms were tight around him. His fingers clawed for leverage on Markus’ back, clutching to him like he was hanging on to life itself. The sound of his name on Markus’ lips triggered a single tear that fell into his shirt sleeve.

“It was my fault,” Connor gritted. “If I had never showed up to Jericho, those androids would still be alive.”

If Markus had to take a guess at what he thought it might be like to feel your heart break, this was it, holding as tightly as he could while his chest absorbed the aftershocks of Connor’s shaking.

“Listen to me.” He pulled away now, his eyes hard as he looked into Connor’s, hands firm on his shoulders. “What happened was terrible. The names and faces of those we lost will be burned into my head just as much as yours, for the rest of my life. I was their leader. And I couldn’t keep them safe.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “But they knew what the risk of joining Jericho was. They agreed to those terms the minute they walked away from their old lives. We may not be able to bring them back, but we can bring justice for them every day that we fight for the freedom of our people. Every day that you fight the system, look it staight in the eyes, and tell it  _no_.” His grip tightened on Connor’s shoulders. “You fight to build a world where the things that happened will never happen again. That was what Jericho stood for. What it  _stands_  for.”

Connor stared with his lips apart, lost for words. Markus reached up to rub away the wetness beneath his eyes with the pads of his thumbs. “Reconcile by bringing them justice, Connor,” he whispered, choking back his own tears. “Fight for them. Mourn for who we’ve lost, and remember them.”

Connor’s mouth finally closed. “It just doesn’t… feel like enough,” he rasped. “When so few know their names. They deserve more.”

Markus’ eyes softened. “Then we do the only other thing we can.”


	7. Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Warning: topics of death, mourning)
> 
> Markus warned him that the path was a bit trecherous. He would have to be careful going it alone. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait for me and go together?” the other android had offered, but Connor had shaken his head; he wanted to be the first one there.
> 
> The late afternoon sunlight reflected off the shards of broken glass across the ground like dewdrops, the metal flooring loud beneath his feet. The sounds of the city disappeared the further in he went, swallowed by the abandoned buildings.

_Warning: topics of death, mourning_

 

Markus warned him that the path was a bit treacherous. He would have to be careful going it alone. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait for me and go together?” the other android had offered, but Connor had shaken his head; he wanted to be the first one there.

The late afternoon sunlight reflected off the shards of broken glass across the ground like dewdrops, the metal flooring loud beneath his feet. The sounds of the city disappeared the further in he went, swallowed by the abandoned buildings.

Connor checked the directions he had received through Markus’ memories and paused at a weathered ladder built up into the side of a building. His fingers reached down to brush against the flap of the messenger bag Hank had let him borrow. It was still secure. A grunt escaped him as he set his hands on the rungs and pulled himself up.

The view when he reached the top made him pause; the rooftop stretched out around him, only to drop off without warning. The buildings far beyond set a dark outline against the sunlight. Something held him back, unwilling to let him peer over the edge. Uncertainty, maybe. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see.

He needed to, though.

He took a few slow steps to the end of the roof and looked down. Where Jericho had once resided, all that remained now were charred sections. The hull was no longer in one piece, broken apart from the bomb’s fire. While some portions still managed to break the surface, the rest was little more than blurred shapes beneath the water.

The first home to many when they’d had none. The place he had become deviant. Where he had first met Markus.

It was nothing but scrap metal now.

Connor took a step back from the edge and sat down, heart pounding, unable to look any longer. He gave himself a minute before reaching into the bag for his notebook. When he found it he withdrew it and flipped through it to the end. Several pages, filled front to back with words that he’d wrestled with for the past few days, stared back at him. His finger ran a line down them as his eyes scanned for where he’d left off.

The pen’s cap came off with a quiet click.

His previous flow was sluggish to pick up again at first, then began to spill faster as his focus faded out. The shadows stretched and thinned across the roof. The end of the page filled; he flipped to the next with barely a pause.

He almost didn’t hear the steps behind him, twenty minutes later, as he neared the end of the one after. The sentence he was on slowed at the distraction of it. He relented and let it pause, setting the pen between the pages and closing the notebook to look up.

Markus stood at the other end of the roof, leaning against a low wall with a thick paper bag balanced in his arms. He waited until their eyes met before making his way over. “How’s it coming?” he asked. He stopped beside where Connor sat.

“I’m almost done.”

He looked out over the abandoned buildings around them. “It’s been so long since I was here,” he said. “I forgot what this place felt like.”

Connor’s hands twitched against the notebook. “Did you find one?”

“Sort of.” Markus knelt down and set the bag on the ground, reaching both hands inside. “It was the only blue thing I could find that was big enough,” he apologized. What he lifted out was roughly the size of a large book, and wrapped in a towel. It fell away easily enough at his touch, revealing a box carved from light blue, almost opaque stone. Its veined surface seemed to glow as the lid caught the sunlight. “It’s made out of aquamarine. I know it’s not quite what you had in mind, but…”

Connor ran a finger over the rough edge where the lid set into the top of the box. “It’s perfect.”

Markus waited a few seconds before speaking again. “Simon, North and Josh still want to join us, if you’re okay with it.” When there was no answer, he added, “I can tell them we’ll have a separate one with them another time, if you want.”

Connor’s fingers curled against the notebook. “No, it’s fine… just…” He paused. “Can it just be us for a while first?”

“Of course.” Markus nodded down at the notebook. “Do you want me to leave you be so you can finish?”

“Just for a few more minutes. I’m almost done.”

“Okay.” He re-wrapped the box and placed it back in the bag. “I’ll be down a level,” he said. “Let me know when you’re done.”

Connor nodded. He watched as Markus retreated back the way he’d come, his footsteps echoing as he climbed down the ladder. He waited until the world had gone quiet again before flipping the notebook back open.

 

—-

 

“We don’t have much time,” North said. She glanced over her shoulder; Simon and Josh were close on her heels, albeit struggling to keep up with her pace.

“What’s the plan again?” Josh asked her as they passed a large mural of graffiti. “Are they already here, or are they meeting us?”

“They’ve been here for a while. Markus said they were waiting for the sunset.” She paused; the path ahead was piled with rubble. Glass crunched beneath her boots as she took a careful step onto it.

Simon followed her suit. “It feels odd to be back,” he said when they’d made it over the worst. “There’s nothing to come back to anymore.”

“Today there is,” North replied quietly. She leaped down over the last of the rubble and waited for the two of them to catch up. “We’re almost there. Should only be one more building over.”

The last ladder was easy enough to recognize from the pictures Markus had sent. North set her feet on the rungs and hoisted herself up in impatience to the rooftop.

Sure enough, there they were. The two stood several feet away, heads tilted together; North thought she saw Markus’ lips moving, but whatever he was saying, it was too quiet for her auditory processors to pick up. She waved a hand to catch their attention until Markus turned and raised a hand back. “We’re not late, are we?” she asked. She heard Simon and Josh climb up behind her as they made their way over.

“Perfect timing, actually. We should probably start before it gets too late.”

She nodded. “We all brought something.”

Markus led the group over to what he and Connor had set up on the ground, near the open edge of the rooftop; a thick, sky-blue box—ceramic? No, gemstone—that caught the quickly-fading afternoon light and sat on top of a mat, its lid open, leaning against the back. Around each side, with the exception of the front, stood a white pillar candle yet to be lit. Their group of five gathered around in a wide half-circle. “How did you want to go about this?” Josh asked.

Markus looked around. “We can take turns putting down the things we brought, and you can say a few words if you’d like,” he suggested. When there were no objections, he added, “Who wants to go first?”

A pause of uncertainty passed amongst them.

It was Simon who braved the first step, digging through his pocket. He withdrew a handful of baby’s breath stalks.

“They’ll never wither,” he explained as he knelt down, splitting the bunch in three and placing one on either side of the mat, near the box’s front corners. The last he lowered gently into the box.

Josh came forward when he was done. A small, blue vile was clutched in his hand. He set it down beside Simon’s offering, then bowed his head, placing two fingers against the lip of the box briefly out of respect.

North waited until he had returned before speaking up. “Markus and I made a list,” she said, “of all the names we could find that were unaccounted for after we fled the ship.” She reached into her pocket for a piece of paper and smoothed it between her hands. The hush that had fallen over them before grew rigid. “Katherine,” she read slowly, giving pause between each name. “Darren. Thomas. Jasmine. Malachi.” Her lips pressed together. “Lucy…”

Markus stole a glance at Connor. The other android’s eyes were locked on the open box.

When the list had been read all the way through North folded the paper and stepped forward to slip it into the box. “You were family,” she said to the air. “You’ll continue to live on through us as we remember you, your lives sealed on our hearts.” She dug through the inner folds of her coat, pulling out a piece of wood in one hand, and a small bowl in the other. Her back hunched over as she set the bowl on the ground, took the wood between two fingers, and lit the end on fire. It was quick to catch. She let the tip be swallowed before blowing a forced breath from her internal fans between her lips; the flame went out, the wood smoking as embers grew bright beneath the charred surface. She placed it back into the bowl.

Markus stole another glance at Connor as she stepped back. There was still no reaction, no move to be next. He stepped forward. “I want to thank all of you for coming,” he said. “It means a lot for us to be able to be here and give memorial as a group to those we lost. I think North said it best; they will continue to live on through us as we remember them, celebrating who they were, and what they believed in.” He got down on one knee, taking each of the glass pillar candles in his hand to light them in turn. When they were aflame he slipped a small, folded piece of white fabric into the box. “You will not be forgotten,” he murmured. He rose to his feet and turned to look behind him. “Connor?”

It was only then that the four noticed the thick, folded sheets of paper clutched in the android’s hands, a red ribbon wrapped around the sides, like a present, with several knots tied in the middle.

He took a slow step when Markus backed away. The backs of his hands brushed his thighs as he came onto his knees, fingernail picking at the edge of the folded papers. “I wish there was more I had done,” he managed.  His grip tightened for a moment before he began to lower it into the box. The smoke from the wood billowed up towards his face. “There are so many things I wish I hadn’t,” he whispered to the box, his voice shaking. “Everything is in there. I’m sorry.”

He blinked when Markus’ hand lowered into his line of vision, pouring four disk-shaped capsules, each smaller than a dime, into his palm. He pressed one into each corner of the box’s inner lip. One last look at the offerings inside was stolen as he reached for the lid. And then he set it in place, pressing down with as much force as he dared. The capsules broke open under the weight, releasing their sealant, immediately beginning to harden between the box and the lid.

Connor sat back on his heels, watching with an unfocused gaze as the candle smoke mingled with the smoke from North’s wood. Everything they had planned was complete. Just like that, it was over, nothing more to be done.

His eyesight blurred.

An arm came around his shoulders when the first tear escaped. He didn’t need to look to know it was North. Her free hand reached for his forearm, gripping it tight.

Another followed, on his other side, squeezing his shoulder.

Then another, against his back.

He dipped his head down to shield his face, trying in vain to hide the saline tears that spilled over his cheeks and fell from his chin, splattering on the concrete beneath their feet.

The last hint of the sun disappeared beyond a horizon they couldn’t see, cloaking the sky in feather-soft strokes of pink. Markus lifted his eyes to it from where he hung back from the rest of the group. He wanted to give them their moment to grieve. A handful of silent words, something like a prayer, fell from his lips.

“Markus?”

He glanced back down. Simon was watching him from where he sat to Connor’s left. He extended his arm out in offering.

Markus’ eyes softened as he made his way over. He knelt beside Simon, slipping his arm across the other android’s shoulders, his hand coming rest next to Josh’s against Connor’s shoulderblade. North’s own hand drew over both of theirs.

The candles burned steady before them, and well into the night after they were long gone, flames standing vigilant over the aquamarine box that would never be opened again.


	8. Part 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m getting too damn old for this.”
> 
> The reflection that stared back at him in the mirror made Hank pause. He had been well-familiar with the wrinkles that lined his face for years now; they were almost old friends at this point. But the wear and tear on his body was growing a little less bearable every day, from the hours sitting hunched over at his work desk, to the sleep that insomnia stole from him every night before 3am. And it was starting to show in the way he carried himself.
> 
> Maybe Connor had a point to his concerns for Hank’s health.

“I’m getting too damn old for this.”

The reflection that stared back at him in the mirror made Hank pause. He had been well-familiar with the wrinkles that lined his face for years now; they were almost old friends at this point. But the wear and tear on his body was growing a little less bearable every day, from the hours sitting hunched over at his work desk, to the sleep that insomnia stole from him every night before 3am. And it was starting to show in the way he carried himself.

Maybe Connor had a point to his concerns for Hank’s health.

_Connor_. His reflection grimaced. The android hadn’t been his usual self for a few weeks. His regular, excited ramblings had slowed to a halt and given way to spans of silence Hank had never experienced with him before. He did his best to keep Connor company on the nights he came home late from work to find him staring out the window with unfocused eyes, or watching the way Beatrice’s fur slid through his fingers repeatedly. Telling him about anything he had heard throughout the day that he thought the android might be interested in. Even if Connor didn’t participate much, he seemed to listen well enough.

And to be fair, the conversations were slowly coming back, though nowhere near their usual level of exuberance. Hank only hoped the kid knew he could talk to him. That he didn’t have to keep whatever this was bottled up inside.

“Connor, you ready?” he called out from the bathroom’s doorway. He wasn’t surprised when there was no answer. His reflection’s brow furrowed at him. “Way too old,” he sighed.

The sight he came out to in the living room nearly made him bite back a bark of laughter. Connor was wearing one of Hank’s sweatshirts, the zipper halfway down, sitting on the couch with an open book in his hands. Peeking her head out from inside, just above where the zipper stopped was Beatrice, her eyes alert as if she were reading along with him.

Hank cleared his throat until Connor looked up at him, blinking. “As much as I hate to break up the fun you two are having, we should head out before we hit traffic. What’s she doing in there?”

“She likes it.”

“I can see that. I’m sure you make a great heater for her, but I don’t think Carl would appreciate us showing up with her.”

Connor pulled down the zipper, watching as Beatrice crawled her way out onto his lap.

The drives had been longer than usual without Connor’s constant stream of thought to buffer the quiet. Today was no different. Hank stole a few glances in his direction, but the android’s eyes were glued to the passenger window.

“You know,” Hank tried to start, “they say spring’s coming early this year.” Connor gave no indication he had heard. “How’s Markus?” he tried again.

Something flickered over the android’s face. “Hes’ fine. He has a public speech next week.”

“Yeah? What about?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t asked.”

Hank grimaced. “Listen, kid.” He tapped a finger against the steering wheel, trying to navigate what he wanted to say. “I know something’s been bothering you lately.” Connor’s chin move an inch in his direction. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I get it. But just don’t get it in your head that whatever it is is some kind of burden you have to carry by yourself.” He closed his eyes for a quick moment and exhaled through his nose. “You don’t have to be strong all the time if you don’t want to. I don’t mind being strong for both of us.” His fingers flexed. “If you want to be sad, be sad,” he quoted. “We’ll ride it out with you. And when you get finished, we’ll be there.”

He smacked himself upside the head in his mind. God, all of that had sounded so stupid.

But he dared a glance from the corner of his eye. Connor’s jaw clenched and unclenched a few times as he processed what he’d just been told. His lips parted. “Thank you, Hank,” he murmured. Hank could have sworn he saw a hint of a smile dance at the corner of his mouth.

The car grew quiet again for the rest of the ride, but this time a hint more comfortable. It wasn’t until they were pulling up into Carl’s driveway that it broke again. “You know we can always leave early,” Hank said. The gear shifted into park, and he killed the engine. “If you don’t feel up for a long visit today.”

Connor nodded. “Thanks. I think I’ll be alright.”

They made their way up to the porch together. Hank’s hand reached to ring the bell, but there was no need; Markus was already there, opening the door for them. “I saw your car pull up,” he explained when Hank’s brows raised in surprise. “Carl’s in the living room, Hank.”

“How’s that for a quick entrance?” Hank asked, turning to Connor, but the android’s eyes were locked on Markus. A look along the lines of relief softened the features of his face.

“I’ll leave you two to it, then,” Hank said, stepping through the door and navigating around Markus. He stole a glance over his shoulder when he was halfway down the hallway, raising an eyebrow to himself when he caught a glimpse of Markus reaching for Connor’s hand as the door closed.

“I was starting to wonder where you were,” Carl said to him when he had made it into the living room. The older man was positioned near the window in his wheelchair, hands folded in his lap.

“We had a little trouble getting out of the house,” Hank apologized. He pulled out a chair from the table and dragged it over to sit beside him. “How’s that piece you showed me last week coming?”

“Not at the pace I’d like,” Carl admitted. “But steady. I have to take more breaks now than I’d like to admit. My hands have started shaking more.” He sighed dismissively. “But what can you do, eh? All part of getting old.”

“Tell me about it.” Hank couldn’t help but let out a groan as he leaned back. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep up this kind of work—feels like it’s getting more demanding every day. The world isn’t cut out for old guys like us. Just wears you down until it’s time to replace you.”

Carl nodded. “Nothing new. You thinking of retiring, Anderson?”

Hank sighed and let himself sink a little further back in the chair.“I don’t know what I’m thinking,” he said. “But I wouldn’t mind a few more vacation days, that’s for damn sure.”

“Hah. Anything to drink?”

He let out a chuckle. “Is it too early for that scotch of yours?”

“It’s my own house,” Carl replied with a wrinkled smile. “If I say it’s not too early, it’s not too early.” A grimace followed. “Although I probably shouldn’t. My doctor’s been cracking down on me since the hospitalization.”

“Then maybe some of that tea you’re always going on about.” Hank braced for a moment against the arms of the chair before pushing himself up.

“Let me have Joseph get that—”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Bah. I may be getting old, but I can still make a ten foot walk. Just have to prep myself mentally beforehand.” Carl laughed at that.

The water kettle sat on its own table near a bookcase, mugs and a box of tea bags to the side. He took out two of each. “What’s on your mind, Hank?” Carl asked while he worked. “You seem preoccupied today.”

Hank was slow to answer. He grimaced at the kettle as he lifted it from its electric burner and poured. “It’s Connor. He hasn’t been himself for a few weeks. Not that he isn’t starting to get back to normal. Just wish I knew what it was on his mind.” He took a mug in each hand and made his way back over.

Carl reached for his.“You mean since the funeral?” he asked.

Hank’s brow furrowed. “Funeral?”

“Markus told me their group had some sort of memorial service for the androids that died at their previous base.”

“Shit.” No wonder Connor hadn’t had his typical energy lately. “He never even told me.” It added up. From what he knew, it would be Connor’s first real run-in with anything resembling grief. It made sense he would’ve been having trouble navigating it.  _Damn kid, you really don’t open up, do you?_  Hank ran his tongue over the backs of his teeth, watching the steam swirl up from his mug. “Does Markus talk to you about a lot of things?”

“Ah… more than you might think.” Carl’s eyebrows lifted, almost knowingly.

Hank leaned back again. “In what way?”

“Well.” Carl shrugged, but a crooked smile spread over his face. “Have you happened to notice the way he and Connor steal glances?”

Hank’s mind flashed to the glimse of their hands he had caught while walking to the living room. Not the first moment he’d observed. He raised an eyebrow. “You could say that. I’ve had my suspicions since they went to that club.”

“I’ve had them as well,” Carl said. He pulled at the string of his tea bag a few times and took a cautious sip. “I think Markus has been trying to be subtle. But I’ve seen the way his face lights up when I mention Connor.” He chuckled, then paused when it turned into a cough. “There’s nothing subtle about it then.”

“Huh.” An amused smile toyed at Hank’s mouth as he thought about it. “You know, if you had told me six months ago that I would be discussing the relationships of an android I’m fighting the previously fastest-rising corporation in the country for custody over, I would have said you were out of your mind.”

“How’s that going, anyway? The legal action.”

Hank blew a breath through his nostrils. “Just as horrible as you might think. They’re budging, but they’re dragging their feet. Trying to find hidden loopholes to throw at us to the point that even Kamski’s having trouble with it. If it was just me?” He shook his head. “I never would have gotten this far.”

“Elijah’s helping you with these matters?”

Hank’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You know him?”

“I more than know him. He’s the one who gave me Markus.”

“No shit?”

Carl rubbed his thumb over his chin in thought. “Maybe I’ll give him a call this evening,” he murmured to himself. His eyes closed as he took another sip. “Connor’s lucky to have you, Hank. No one better to have fighting in his corner.”

“Nah.” Hank gave a small shake of his head, eyes softening as he looked down into his tea. “I’m just a worn down cop who’s lived out too much of life. If anything, I’m the one who’s lucky.” He pointed a finger. “Don’t ever tell him I said that, though.”

Carl gave a chuckle. “Of course not—can’t have him thinking his old man has gone soft,” he agreed jokingly.

Hank raised his mug to his lips, trying to hide the emotion that welled up without warning at the words  _his old man_. “You really think he and Markus…?” he asked, trying to change the subject back.

A shrug. “I don’t know. Could very well be. Either way, they seem happy.”

Hank’s eyes drew to the window, watching the sun filter between the bare branches of the trees that had just begun to show signs of budding. “Yeah. They do.”

 

——-

 

“Are you going to tell me what it is?”

Connor watched Markus’ profile for an answer; he hadn’t wasted time, after Hank had left them to meet Carl in the living room, reaching for Connor’s hand. “There’s something I want you to see,” he’d murmured, leading him with a gentle tug towards the stairs. Now they were making their way down the second story’s hallway, and Connor still wasn’t sure what for.

Markus turned to him. “That wouldn’t make it a surprise anymore, now would it?” he replied.

“Well.” Connor pulled at the other android’s hand until they came to a halt. His thumb reached up and swiped against Markus’ cheek, wiping a smudge of dirt. “Considering the evidence I would say it has something to do with bontany. Perhaps up in the garden.”

“Thank you, Detective,” Markus replied, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. He sighed in defeat. “Humor me, please? I’ve been working on this for almost a week.”

“Sorry. Should I rub it back on?”

He rolled his eyes, despite the reluctant smile that tugged at his mouth. “Come on, you.”

They climbed the final flight of stairs to the rooftop doors, pushing through the threshold into the sunlight. Connor blinked a handful of times as his eyes adjusted first to the brightness, then the sight before him.

The garden beds that had once stood empty on either side of the wide path were now home to several different ground cover plants, succulents, herbs, and lavender bushes, each bed holding something different than the others, but mirroring the one on the opposite side. That much he had expected to see some degree of.

The rest, however, he wasn’t prepared for.

New benches were arranged under the wood canopy that took up the far end of the garden. Where it had been neglected before, the overhead beams were now lit with string lights that matched the ones zig-zagging across the rest of the rooftop. Pots of trailing plants hung from hooks between the new lights, spilling their vines and leaves down, like a collection of green chandeliers over the sitting area. Panes of glass stretched between each wooden beam to make three walls, as well as a sloping roof. It was big enough for several people to reside comfortably under.

“What do you think?” Markus asked.

Connor walked the wide path to the threshold of the canopy, slowing to a hault in the middle of its floor. His head tilted back to look up at the plant that hovered a handful of  feet above him. Grape ivy. “You did all this?” he asked when Markus had caught up to him.

“Most of it. I had some help here and there. Most of it with revamping this.” He reached an arm up to curl his hand against a beam, leaning his weight against it.

Connor turned in a slow circle as he stepped towards him. “This is incredible, Markus. What… what even possessed you to want to fix all of this up?”

The other android’s head tilted to the side. “No one’s used it for years now. After we danced up here, I figured it was time to breathe some new life into it.” He gave an almost nervous smile. They were face-to-face now. “I thought it would be nice for us to have a place we could look forward to being in. I can do my painting here, and you can do your writing. Plus,” he looked to the side, sheepish, “the flooring seemed like a waste not to use, considering how wide it is.” Connor’s internal fans whirred.

The definition of Markus’ cheek grew more prominent as he sucked it between his teeth. “I didn’t know if you would like any of it or not,” he added.

Connor’s brow furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I like it?”

He received a drawn-out shrug in reply. “We’ve only danced here one time. I didn’t know if I was going out on too much of a limb or not. With any of it.”

Something in Connor’s chest spasmed and clenched. It almost hurt.

He dared to reach his hand up and brought it to the side of Markus’ neck, thumb brushing the edge of his jaw. “I more than like it,” he said quietly. His eyes flitted downward. “And I think I’d like it if we always had a place we could dance.”

Markus’ eyes softened. He dipped his chin to nudge at Connor’s hand and planted a kiss against the base of his palm.

A pulse of electricity surged through Connor’s hardwiring at the contact. He cleared his vocal box. “You missed.”

“What do you mean, I missed?”

He tilted Markus’ chin with his thumb and closed the space between them, meeting the other android’s lips gently with his own. The surge of electricity returned.

It wasn’t until they pulled away a few minutes later that a small speaker Connor hadn’t noticed turned on without warning, spitting out a chorus of brass section instruments beside one of the benches.

Markus took a step back to offer up his palm. “Care to test it out?”

Connor’s internal fans whirred as he let the question hang in the air. He couldn’t help but take the other android in for a moment. The shyness on his face despite the light in his eyes.

He looked so beautiful.

Their hands slid together as the song sprung into the first verse. “Frank Sinatra, huh?” Connor said, raising a eyebrow as he pretended to copy Markus’ tone of voice. He rested his other hand against the android’s waist. “Didn’t know you were such a fan of the classics.”

Markus smiled as he led their bodies into a turn. “It’s a song many have danced to over the decades,” he replied.


	9. Part 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And then two steps back… then we can move into a spin, like this—”
> 
> “I was thinking the opposite direction. So that we can spin apart… no, with our hands still together… this way…”
> 
> “And then what?”
> 
> “Then you come back and we come together again. And then we fall back into the set, to make our way down the path.”
> 
> Markus lifted an eyebrow at Connor, glancing away from where their hands were pressed together. “I wanted that first spin to turn into a bend,” he said.

“And then two steps back… then we can move into a spin, like this—”

“I was thinking the opposite direction. So that we can spin apart… no, with our hands still together… this way…”

“And then what?”

“Then you come back and we come together again. And then we fall back into the set, to make our way down the path.”

Markus lifted an eyebrow at Connor, glancing away from where their hands were pressed together. “I wanted that first spin to turn into a bend,” he said.

“You have to space them out more than that,” the other android argued.

“Connor—”

“You can’t just have the same move almost back-to-back—”

“It’s not back-to-back.”

“It is when you consider how fast we go through it.”

Markus huffed softly. “We’ve been at this for almost an hour, Connor.”

And had they. What had started as a mere idea earlier in the day—to create and perfect a dance routine the two of them could call their own—had turned into a full-blown struggle they’d been attempting to navigate between each other, throwing ideas and sets of steps and moves out there, only to have it countered with a different idea.

The music paused as Markus reached out to re-connect to the speaker. “If we’re going through it too fast, maybe we should slow it down a little.”

Connor raised his eyebrows in response and tried to guide him into another move’s demonstration. “Or maybe we should just space out the same moves a little more.”

Markus gave him a dramatic eyeroll. “You are utterly  _impossible,”_  he leaned forward at an angle, sweeping Connor into the back bend he’d wanted to implement, “to work with.”

Connor waited until he had been returned to his upright position. “No.” He led Markus into a gliding, turning set of steps in return, forcing their chests close. “I’m meticulous. There’s a difference.”

“Meticulous? Yes.” Markus stole a kiss against his lips without warning. He let out a laugh when Connor’s jaw slackened in surprise, caught off-guard. “Prepared for the unexpected? Not so much.” His eyes lifted to the string lights above their heads. “And at this rate we’re never going to get anywhere.”

Connor gave a slight shake of his head. “No,” he agreed, and lifted the other android’s hand above his head, directing him into a spin. “Because you’ve been dead-set on leading the entire routine.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Really. That’s a stretch, even for you.”

Markus’ feet planted against the floor, forcing their movements to a halt. Connor’s internal fans whirred when the other android’s eyes settled on his with an unabashed gaze. “Fine. Then I’ll make you a wager.” His chin tilted forward as he leaned into the space between them.

Connor felt his eyes flutter shut despite himself, waiting for the contact.

Three seconds. Four. Nothing.

He looked up in confusion, only to be met with a smirk on Markus’ lips hovering inches from his own. The other android cocked an eyebrow. “Let’s settle this on the dance floor,” he said, his voice low. “Winner gets to have the final say in every move of the dance.”

A pulse of electricity surged through Connor’s wires.

His tongue flicked over the back of his teeth as he weighed it. Such a tempting offer. “So, what, we’ll keep an interface open between us with the routines we each have in mind?”

“Exactly. And we have to try by the end to have led with ours more than the other.”

The muscles in his jaw flexed, pondering the idea. “And the micro magnet films,” he finally added, meeting Markus’ instigating gaze with his own. “Winner gets to use them for the rest of the day.”

“Someone’s feeling devious, aren’t we?”

“Perhaps.” Connor placed two fingers against Markus’ chest and pushed him back, creating a foot of space between them. “Or maybe I just want to wipe that smirk off your face later.”

“Devious  _and_  cocky?” Markus grinned. The synthetic skin withdrew from his hand. “That’s a dangerous combo, Connor.”

Connor followed suit. “What song?” he asked, ignoring the comment.

“I’ll be generous. You pick.”

He receded into his mental libraries, scanning through titles and artists. “How should we start?” he asked as he looked.

The other android glanced towards the ground in thought. “Maybe start out with a few neutral steps to get us going,” he suggested. “Then after that it’s anyone’s game?”

Connor’s scans jolted to a halt when he glanced over a particular song, registering the tempo. “ _If we’re going through it too fast, maybe we should slow it down a little,_ ” Markus’ voice rang from the back of his mind. He scanned over the routine he’d put together over the last hour and made a few test adjustments, seeing how the two lined up.

Oh, to use it was a hint devious, alright. And too good of a chance to pass up.

He connected to the speaker without a word. “Ready?” he asked.

“You know it.”

A harmony of string and brass instruments swelled gently in classic twenties’ style. The two drew close, circling each other a few steps before their exposed hands drew together. They waited for the instrumental pause, filled with a few taps of a cymbal that led into piano, before stepping off. “ _Sometimes when I… wanna run away and hide,_ ” the voice in the song rang out, smooth and slow while their feet took up the steps of a waltz. “ _When there’s no one on my side and all my pride had disappeared…_ ”

Connor counted the steps down in his head, watching Markus’ face for any hint he could grab onto. Waiting for the real game to begin as the sets dwindled down, until there was only one left.

Markus was quick to shoot in when the last step ended, but Connor was a fraction of a second quicker, and the first step of his planned routine plugged in through their interface. He started off without hesitation, taking the lead between them, drawing Markus closer.

The other android’s eyes were already filled with suspicion; the song had taken a pause, ever so brief, but when it returned the pace had quickened. Connor fought to keep his face neutral and took Markus into a spin. Waiting as inconspicuously as he could until the brass section let out a drawn-out blast. And then he led them off, gliding back as the music’s tempo picked up to something much, much quicker, leading the waltz with it.

“You little sneak,” Markus said. Connor couldn’t help the cheeky grin he gave in reply. “ _I don’t plan on slowing down, no I’ll keep on going,_ ” the song replied.

Markus gave him a look that he pretended not to notice.

His routine brought them halfway down the path; to his surprise, when it called for him to bend, Markus leaned into it almost eagerly. Connor’s internal fans sucked in a whoosh of air when the other android’s hand cupped the back of his neck on the way back up, drawing their faces close when he was standing again. His processors hiccuped.

And then they were no longer following his routine. Markus had seized the moment and snuck in, pushing Connor’s out of the interface to lay down his own. The song began to fade into one with a gentler rhythm.

“You didn’t say we were allowed to change the song,” Connor managed to protest.

“I think you forfeited the definition of fair play with the one you chose. Anyone’s game, remember?” Markus regarded his slackened jaw with a grin. “You pick the game board, you better be ready to play,” he added, and swept him into a spin.

So that was how it was going to be.

Connor relented to Markus’ progression as he was taken into it. “You don’t exactly fight clean yourself,” he said. His mind scanned the open interface, trying to calculate.

“It’s just too tempting, when you’re so easily flustered.”

“Maybe so,” Connor agreed to his surprise. “You know what else I am, though?”

Markus led him into an underarm turn, one eyebrow raised. “What?”

Connor slipped into a switch of their hands’ positions when they fell back together, not waiting to see if Markus had noticed before stepping off, inserting his routine back into the interface. “Meticulous.” His only reply was a sly wink when Markus sputtered out a surprised  _Hey—_

The battle travelled the length of the path and back several times, even as the routines they had previously set drew to an end and they began to make new ones on the fly; throwing new moves at each opportunity; swapping one song for another, trying to one-up each other’s ability to come back from it with subtle changes to the styles and genres of the previous. “Feel free to give up at any time,” Markus offered when he had taken the lead again, spinning them around.

“Kind of you,” Connor said. “You can’t keep it up forever, though.”

Markus tutted. “Oh, baby,” he replied, “I’m only getting started.”

Connor’s ear perked with curiosity when the change of song took a drastic turn. A chorus of brass instruments, with a tempo that neither of them had dared switch to before. The position of Markus’ hand drew further up under his arm, and the other android began to lead with steps that no longer reflected their waltz. Connor scanned their interface. “Oh, finally a challenge?” he asked, falling into the matching steps. He lifted where his hand rested from Markus’ waist to just below his shoulderblade. “What took you so long?”

 _“When marimba rhythms start to play,”_ the voice from the speaker sang out, smooth as silk, _“dance with me, make me sway.”_

Markus cocked an eyebrow at Connor’s unrelenting gaze. “Is it?” he asked. Their steps grew more precise, circling each other.

The dance turned from their previous race into a game of chess, no longer struggling to keep hold the longest—instead now they battled the other’s previous move individually, looking only a step ahead for the next opening, their feet playing around each other with expert precision.

Their bodies melded against each other as Markus had Connor turn, the android’s back to his chest. “This song always reminded me of you,” he murmured, lips grazing the side of his exposed neck.

Connor slid a hand briefly against his jaw from behind before drawing himself away, stepping to spin around Markus from the side. The other android followed suit. Their heads turned to each other. “And why’s that?”

“ _Only you have that magic technique, when we sway I go weak._ ”

“Take a guess.”

Their hands came back together around each other, and Connor spun their bodies in a few circles with his hold. There was one final trick up his sleeve he had been saving since the beginning. “You certainly know your way around sweet-talking,” he admitted, his voice a whisper in Markus’ ear. “I’m afraid it won’t help you any more today, though.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I have to win,” Connor replied simply. His lips brushed Markus’ earlobe as their movement halted with the pause in the song. “I want to see your knees weak from the way I touch you.”

That did it.

Markus’ eyes widened as he missed the chance for his next step, and Connor swooped in for it, taking over the final bit of the dance, spinning Markus to the left. “ _Like a flower bending in the breeze, bend with me, sway with me,_ ” the song cried, and Connor guided Markus into a smooth bend in response. The game of chess was over; Connor had switched back to their previous mode of battle, not leaving an inch for the rest of the dance until the song’s final verse rang out from the speakers. He brought Markus into a final twirl, wrapping the android a little tighter in his arms and drawing their previously extended hands closer as the step ended with the last note of the song. The silence almost echoed in the absense of the music as they stared at each other, internal fans whirring loud enough to be audible.

“I win,” Connor told him.

Markus’ mouth opened—whether in surprise or to say something, he wasn’t sure—only to be cut off by the sound of applause erupting from the other end of the garden.

Their heads snapped to the side; Carl and Hank had positioned themselves near the door, unnoticed to either of them. “Encore!” Carl called out, eliciting a bark of laughter from Hank.

Overheating warnings rose up behind Connor’s eyes; his hold on Markus loosened to let them both take a step back from each other. “Where’d you two even learn to dance like that?” Hank asked with a grunt, pushing Carl’s wheelchair towards them.

“That was one of the best tangos I’ve ever seen,” Carl chimed in.

“Ah…” Markus’ gaze fell to Connor. He let out an embarrassed laugh. “We just kind of went with it… How long were you standing there?”

“A while. The music was so loud we could hear it from downstairs, so we came up to see what all the noise was about.”

Hank chuckled. “Last thing we expected was to find you two dancing for your lives to Michael Buble.”

Connor slipped a hand over his face, trying to hide the rush of thirium working to cool down his system.  _Do you think they heard any of the things we said?_  he asked Markus in his head.

There was a chuckle beside him. Markus’ fingers reached out to the space between them, brushing the back of Connor’s arm in a reassuring way.  _Doubt it._

It was a few seconds before they realized both older men were still watching. “So,” Carl said with a smile. “You two have something you want to tell us?”

Connor glanced back to Markus, who gave him a sheepish smile and lowered his hand. It took Connor a moment, thoughts swirling, before he dared to lower his hand from his face and entwine their fingers together.

 

—–

 

“Markus?”

“Hm.” The android tilted his head up from where he lay and opened an eye. He managed to watch only for a moment as Connor’s thumb and forefinger spread to travel the length of his collar bone before it shut again, a noise rising from the back of his throat at the contact of the micro magnets. These things really did work. “Yes, Connor,” he tried again, breathlessly.

“I don’t think I mind if we don’t have a set dance routine.”

This time both eyes snapped open. Their gazes met. “Oh?”

Connor nodded. “I like it much better when we make it up on the fly.”

A laugh escaped him. He ran his fingers along the length of Connor’s exposed spine, the other micro magnet film sealed over his own hand causing the android to shiver. “Me, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Tumblr user rk-1k for letting me piggy-back off one of their ideas for this chapter!
> 
> Songs referenced: The Villain I Appear to Be by Connor Spiotto  
> Sway by Michael Buble


	10. Part 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Shit.”
> 
> Connor's eyes flickered from the edge of the counter to the floor, the end of the cucumber he had been slicing falling with a quiet thud. He already knew without looking that it was enough to pique the interest of both Beatrice and Sumo.

“Shit.”

Connor's eyes flickered from the edge of the counter to the floor, the end of the cucumber he had been slicing falling with a quiet _thud_. He already knew without looking that it was enough to pique the interest of both Beatrice and Sumo. Heavy paws came to him from across the kitchen floor before he could wipe his hands dry. The tinkling of Beatrice's collar followed close behind, trickling in from the living room, her bell bouncing in time to her trot.“Not for you,” Connor warned. He was met with a wag of Sumo's tail, the old dog's nose lowering to the floor. “Sumo—alright, fine, you can have it,” he relented, though there was no need to give the okay; the cucumber was already gone.

Beatrice snuck between his front paws to sniff the wet spot on the floor. Her eyes went comically wide, head lifting enough for her ear to brush the fur that hung from Sumo's chest, when a fist rapped against the front door.

Connor finished drying his hands and scooped her up, holding her in his palm with the lower half of her body balanced on his forearm, before making his way into the living room. He lifted her to plant a kiss against the back of her neck. “You're not running outside again,” he said into her fur. She squirmed in protest while his free hand worked to unlock and open the door.

An extra rush of air sucked its way through his internal fans; Markus stood beneath the porch light, the soft glow cast over his eyelashes and the hint of stubble along his jaw. The way the shadows played across his face was almost like a painting. A paper bag hung from one hand; in the other he held the small speaker from the rooftop garden.

Connor glanced behind him as Beatrice struggled to free herself. “Where's Carl?” he asked.

Markus shook his head and stepped through the threshold to shut the door behind him. “He hasn't been feeling well since he got up this morning. He wanted me to tell you he's sorry he couldn't make it. But we'll do something to celebrate at our place when he's feeling better.”

“Oh.”

“I still brought the amount we intended to make, though.” Markus raised the bag. “I figured I could bring some home for him.” Connor gave a nod. “I'm not late, am I? Hank's not here yet?”

“No, he's not due home for another h—”

His sentence was cut short by Markus stepping forward and pressing a sudden, hard kiss against his mouth, eliciting a noise from the back of his throat. Beatrice took her chance as his eyelids fluttered shut, wriggling free from his grip and launching herself down to the floor. It took him longer than he would have liked to admit to find his voice and pull away. “Later. He'll be home in an hour.”

Markus pretended to look wounded as he followed Connor to the kitchen. “I expect plenty more to come later as payment for my services,” he said, placing the bag on the counter and reaching inside.

Connor raised an eyebrow and slid a clean cutting board his way. “Depends how well you can cook,” he replied. He smirked when he received a shove on the shoulder.

The speaker was turned on and set on top of the fridge, filling the kitchen with music as they worked beside each other; Connor moved back and forth between sauteeing vegetables on the stove and mincing the herbs Markus had brought, while the other android laid out meat on the cutting board and worked to flatten it with a mallet.

Connor had just slid the sage to the side of the cutting board with his knife when he heard Markus yelp in surprise, followed by a bark of laughter. “Sumo, I'm not done...!” The old dog paid no mind, tail raised and wagging while he pushed his weight against the backs of the android's legs to nudge his way between them. “It's not ready yet, bud—we haven't cooked it,” he apologized.

Connor bit back his own laughter as he watched Markus try to find his balance. “Hang on, I'll get him,” he said, flicking bits of sage from his fingers. Markus waved a hand dismissively.

“He just wants do help, don't you?” he asked, planting his feet firmly on either side of Sumo and bending forward to press a rough kiss against the dog's forehead. “You can be my sous-chef.”

When the meat had been flattened to the approval of both of them and the rest of the herbs minced, Markus took handfuls from Connor's cutting board, sifted them onto the meat between his fingers and rolled it up, while Connor returned his attention to the vegetables on the stove. His eyes glanced at the clock every so many minutes. Calculating the difference between when they would be done and when Hank was expected home.

Markus' finished creation slid into the oven just as he lowered the heat under the pan and covered it, with a double check of the preheated temperature for the meat. Their eyes met as the oven door shut between them. “Is that everything, then?” Markus asked.

Connor flicked over the checklist in his head; the table had been cleared and set long before, and the food was, for the time being, fine on its own. Except for the dishes they had dirtied, there was nothing left to do but wait. “That's everything. Except for cleaning up.”

Markus' eyes trailed from his face down the length of his neck and back, his tongue clicking once against the roof of his mouth. “That can wait,” he said in a low voice. He reached forward to hook his index fingers through the front belt loops of Connor's jeans and gave a tug, pressing their waists together.

A rush of thirium surged through Connor's face. His hands barely had time to reach for the sides of Markus' jaw before the android's lips were on his, tingling sensations flooding his processors, trailing their way up his tongue and cheeks. He sputtered in surprise. “When did you put that on?” he mumbled into Markus' mouth.

He felt the android smirk. “When you weren't looking,” Markus mumbled back, and nudged until Connor's lower back pressed against the edge of the counter. The kisses trailed down, hungry, traveling from his chin to the edge of his jaw, just below his earlobe.

“Th-the window's open,” Connor sputtered, even as his head tilted back to make his neck more easily accessable. He tried to bite back the noises rising from his throat as Markus' lips made their way to his collar bone. “Go slower.”

He felt a smile against his skin. “Yes, sir,” Markus teased. The pace he had been moving at became drawn out, taking intervals between pressing firm kisses against Connor's clavicle, and his lips barely brushing enough to make contact, eliciting the noises he loved so much. The other android's fingers curled around the back of his neck when he tugged down the collar of his shirt to expose his heart.

“... Hands.”

“What?” Markus murmured, triggering a shiver.

“Let me use the ones for your hands.”

Connor nearly buckled against the counter beneath him when Markus hummed into his chest, just above his heart, pretending to ponder the idea. “Front pocket.”

He reached two fingers down, struggling to tug at the edge of the slim box portruding from Markus' jeans while his chest continued to be explored. He popped it open when at last he had suceeded, fumbling to get them in place against his palms. “I want my own pair,” he commented as he slid the box back in Markus' pocket.

“I'll see what I can do.”

“You better.” He ran his hands without warning up the length of Markus' torso, watching the look that came over the other android's face at the suddenness of the sensation. “I'm tired of stealing yours all the time.” He let himself be hushed with a kiss, their weight pressing a little more firmly together.

Connor's hands had just found their way under Markus' shirt to travel his waist—eliciting a noise that made his processors hiccup—when the headlights of a passing car lit the window bright enough to make him blink. He waited, listening for the sound of the engine to continue down the street, and was met instead with it slowing just outside, before dying altogether.

“Shit,” he hissed. His hands struggled to escape the fabric of Markus' shirt. “Hank's home early.”

“He's not supposed to be home for another twenty minutes—”

Connor was already stacking the dirty utensils and cutting boards into a pile in the sink. Markus didn't wait to follow suit, grabbing a hand towel to wipe down the counter. “He must have gotten off early. Of all days.” Connor grimaced to himself. The food wasn't even done yet.

Sumo rose to his feet at the familiar jingle of keys when the front door creaked open. “Connor?” Hank's voice called out. There was a pause when the only reply was the music trickling in from the kitchen. The door slammed shut.

Sumo reached him just as he appeared in the doorway, eyes worn from the work day. His brow furrowed in confusion as he took in the two androids, the table, the music, the evidence of food on the counters, all while attention was waited for at his feet. “What the hell's going on in here?” he asked.

Connor could only manage a crooked smile at their halfway-finished surprise, his hands hidden behind his back as he peeled off the micro-magnet films. “Happy anniversary, Hank,” he replied.

The older man gave him a look, followed by a bemused grunt that was almost a laugh. He reached down to rub Sumo's neck. “What are you even talking about? What anniversary?”

Connor's eyes went to Markus; his sensors echoed with the memory of the other android's lips. “You've seemed worn out lately,” he said, struggling to get his thoughts in order, “so we wanted to do something to surprise you. And today's the anniversary of when you graduated your academy at the top of your class.” He rubbed his hand against the back of his neck. “We were... expecting you home a little later, though.”

“Everything was supposed to be ready by the time you got here,” Markus rushed to clarify. “The food still has about ten minutes left to cook.”

Hank's eyes scanned the kitchen for a second time, understanding now. “Ah... Jesus, you two,” he said. “You didn't have to go to all of this trouble just for me.”

Connor gave a small smile. “It was supposed to be the four of us, but Carl wasn't feeling well enough to come.”

“I'll try to go visit him tomorrow if he's up to it.” Hank straightened to let his jacket fall from his shoulders. “Well, whatever it is you're making smells fantastic. Since when do you know how to cook?”

“It's Italian stuffed flank steak—” Markus replied, at the same time Connor started to explain, “Cooking is an easy enough task for any android to perform—”

Hank laughed as their words tripped over each other. “Either way, it sounds fucking good.”

 

\-------

 

The food was declared perfect, though Connor and Markus had to take Hank's word for it, accompanied with comments of disbelief sprinkled throughout the meal— “You really know how to do this off the top of your head? You're not just bullshitting me”—and conversation that flowed just as well. Markus told them of a new project that had begun to take off within the Jericho community; they were working to build a platform that encouraged androids to explore self-expression through different art medias. The idea had been slow to set into motion at first, but now it was gaining traction. They hoped within a few months' time it could be a big enough program to reach other parts of the country.

Connor listened with only a hint less attention than Hank; it was rather difficult to both concentrate and keep a neutral face with Markus' hand on his leg beneath the table—he had stolen back the micro-magnetic hand films when no one was looking—tracing unbearably slow circles against his inner thigh. Until Connor finally placed his own hand over Markus' knuckles and guided the touch to the other android's thigh, giving it a squeeze. He held back a smirk when there was an audible catch in Markus' sentence.

When the conversation began to dwindle and his plate was empty, Hank sat back in his chair, a long sigh of contentment escaping him.“I'm never cooking another meal in this household again,” he announced. “I hope you know that.”

“You never cook,” Connor said pointedly.

Hank raised an eyebrow. “Hey. This is supposed to be my night. No quips.”

“Fair enough. Anything else you'd like to do tonight?”

The older man rubbed his thumb against his chin, contemplating. “I don't know... Oh. You know what? There is something.”

The two androids watched as he pushed his chair back and made his way across the kitchen, retrieving the speaker from above the fridge. They shared a look of confusion between each other when he walked away, disappearing into the living room.

He had already positioned himself in the middle of the couch by the time they had followed, hunched over his phone screen. Beatrice leapt up onto the cushion beside him and stretched her neck forward to inspect the speaker. “Hank? What is it you wanted to do?” Connor asked.

Hank smiled. “You two,” he paused as the speaker alerted them that the phone had connected successfully with a _ping_ , making Beatrice yank her head back, “are going to do one of your dances. And this time I'm going to have a front row seat.”

Connor's eyes widened in surprise. Of all the things he had expected Hank to ask for, this wasn't one of them. “You really want...? Right here?”

“There's plenty of room if you move the coffee table.”

“That's not what I meant—”

Markus let out a laugh beside him, no doubt at the whir that had arisen from his internal fans. “You heard him,” he said to Connor. He stepped forward to grab the edges of the coffee table. “It's his night.”

Connor reached to help. “This is really what you want, Hank?” he asked again.

Hank gave him a crooked smile as he scrolled through his phone. “But this time I get to pick the music. Don't get me wrong, the songs you guys chose were nice. But let me show you what the _real_ stuff is.” He leaned over to set the speaker on the table beside the couch. “My old man used to play this album non-stop when I was a kid,” he added, and pressed play on his phone. The style of music that sprung to life was familiar enough; trumpets surging in time with the beat of the drum. But it was a song neither of them had listened to before, or artist, for that matter. Hank waved them on to start as the first verse began, but Connor didn't notice; the sheepish smile that spread Markus' face had captivated his attention.

A surge of courage overtook him, and he reached for Markus' hand, pulling him onto their makeshift dancefloor with a spin as Dean Martin asked them, “ _How lucky can one guy be?_ ” He swore he nearly felt his heart pop out of its socket at the sound of Markus' laughter, loud as it rang throughout the room.

They spun each other back and forth across the floor, arms reaching above heads and stretching their bodies apart to twirl back together in the moments after. No battle this time; all was in good fun, with more than a hint of awkwardness as Hank watched on. But even that began to melt away with each song that passed.

Until, that is, Hank skipped the next few songs, muttering something to himself. “There it is,” he said finally, and set his phone down again, settling back against the couch with amusement in his eyes as another song began. “You can't just pull out a tango to Sway without knowing the original,” he told them.

The embarrassment that had been ebbing away surged anew through Connor's sensors. “ _Hank_ —” he tried to protest, but he was already being pulled along in a poor copy of their original tango.

“I'm winning this time,” Markus teased him.

Connor tilted forward, pressing his forehead into Markus' shoulder to hide his face as the other android moved them along. “You're both terrible,” he pleaded into his shirt. He could have sworn he heard a chuckle from the couch; it was hard to tell over the melodic sound of Markus giggling in his ear as the other android sang, “ _Make me thrill as only you know how, sway me smooth, sway me now._ ”

When the song blessedly began to fade out, Markus let his hands slide from Connor and made his way over to Hank, reaching to help him up by the forearm. “Alright. Your turn, old man. Come show us what you've got.”

Hank tried to wave him off with a snort. “Bah. Haven't danced in years. Don't even think I ever learned enough to be considered dancing, for that matter.”

“Then we'll teach you,” Markus insisted. He grinned when the liutenant finally relented and allowed himself be led to the middle of the living room floor. Markus directed their attention to their feet as a new song began. “First thing you need to do is learn how to step.”

Connor smiled to himself as he watched them from the side of the room. Hank's movements were stiff and unsure in contrast to Markus', but the android was a patient teacher. Within minutes they were making their way through a slow, basic sequence around the floor, peppered with guided instructions.

Beatrice let out a cry at Connor's feet until he bent down to pick her up and set her tiny frame against his shoulder, scratching beneath her ear with one finger. Her purr filled his head while they watched on over the dance lesson, Markus making some joke he hadn't been paying enough attention to catch, receiving a bark of laughter in reply from Hank.

Was this what having a family was like?

Connor blinked, the unexpectedness of the thought catching him off-guard.

There was no previous part of his life he could compare an answer to for context. The idea of a family had crossed his mind only in passing before; it was just that. An idea, nothing more. Or it had been at the time. Now he let himself wonder, watching two of the individuals he cared about more than anything in the world as they shared such a pure moment of interaction. He had no way of knowing then that this night would become something he held onto in the years to come, long after it had softened into a memory.

It didn't matter what having a family felt like, he decided. This had to be pretty damn close. And that was good enough for him.

“Connor.”

His eyes refocused. Hank had taken a step back from Markus, holding an outstretched hand to him. “You better watch out, I think I know enough to beat you at your own game now.”

A crooked smile spread across Connor's face. “Don't be so sure,” he said, setting Beatrice gently onto the arm of the couch and stepping to the middle of the floor. “Markus thought the same thing not that long ago.”

“Oh, I still do,” Markus chimed in as he fell back to give them room. “Only now I know how to change up my strategy for next time.”

The music flowed seamlessly, carrying them along as Connor took his turn teaching Hank the basics of a tango, and eventually switching off back to Markus when Hank declared that he'd “had his fair share of dancing for one night as an Old Guy”. The dance Markus playfully challenged Connor to fell some odd place between a waltz and a swing, bouncing back and forth between styles while Hank watched on.

They didn't get to see it to completion before the music cut out.

Hank gave a scoff of protest. “I'm getting a call, hang on.” He sighed as he reached for his phone and swiped a finger across the screen. “It better be good for this time of night,” he warned whoever was on the other end of the line before falling silent. His eyes flickered over to Connor while he listened, the light that had been in them before dimming. “Yeah, he's here,” he murmured, and turned his head away.

Connor's processors came to a crashing halt. It was Kamski.

And there were few things pressing enough for him to call so late about—something had happened.

The happiness Connor had let himself indulge in throughout the evening plummetted; its successor wasted no time flooding in, pulling the room away from him, triggering warnings of rising stress levels behind his eyes. Dread.

He barely registered when Markus' hand enveloped his own, holding firm to him. “Stay with me,” he heard the other android whisper. Connor closed his eyes. This wasn't dread spreading through him, he realized. It was panic. “Stay with me,” Markus repeated. Connor grasped his hand tight, trying to let the gentle request pull him an inch out of the storm of scenarios howling through his head.

“Are you fucking serious?” Hank burst without warning. He turned to look over his shoulder, eyes on Connor. “Those sons of bitches—” he breathed, and then fell silent again for the span of a minute, then another, before he put his head in his hand. “Oh, my god... okay. Okay, I will. Sweet Jesus... right. I'll tell him.” He filled his lungs as much as they would allow. The breath hissed out between his teeth as the call died, and he dropped the phone on the couch. Connor's eyes were still closed when he looked up. It was easy enough to read on his face that he knew, but still Hank announced, “That was Kamski.”

Markus' hand tightened, trying to curb the shaking that had crept into Connor's as he demanded, “What did he say?”

Hank's mouth disappeared behind his hand, just for a moment, as he rubbed at his jaw. His head dipped down. “Cyberlife relented custody,” he finally said, his voice rough from the emotion he was struggling to get under control. “He'll be legally released from them by the end of the week.”

Connor racked his brain to comprehend the words, pieces that wouldn't fit in the puzzle of context clues he thought he'd gathered. _Relented. Released._

The room slowed.

There was no bad news; he hadn't misheard. They'd won.

And then Markus was pulling him into the safety of his arms, holding him in a grip that would have knocked the wind out of any human, absorbing the shock waves from the tremors that racked Connor's body. “They're letting you go,” he heard in his ear, like Markus couldn't quite believe it himself. A hand carressed the back of his neck. “It's finally over.”

Connor gritted his teeth, trying to hold back the saline tears threatening to pour down his cheeks. _It's over,_ his mind echoed. _It's over._

There was a new hand on his shoulder, squeezing. “We did it, kid,” Hank said beside him, his voice gentle and full of assurance.

Just like that, the fear of every uncertainty had reached its end. No more waiting in limbo. No more endless nights while the rest of the house slept, torn between the things he wanted to fight for, and logical preparation for emotional detachment should Cyberlife snap their fingers and whisk him away. No more hours with nothing to do during the day, being prohibited from any real work. No more fear of what would become of him, deactivation or being reset.

No more panic at the thought of Amanda being reprogrammed into his databases.

A sob of relief tore through him, racking his body in Markus' arms as he reached to clutch Hank's wrist with one hand, the back of Markus' neck with the other. The space they occupied around him became more tightly-knit; his protection against the rest of the world as he let all of the fear and torment purge itself from his system through his tears.

“Well,” Hank said when the worst of it had passed several minutes later, and Connor finally lifted his head. “I think this is officially your night now. What do you want to do first to celebrate being a free android?”

Connor blinked. Celebration was the farthest thing from his mind. “I thought you said it wasn't until the end of the week.”

“That's just legality bullshit. What do you want to do?”

What _did_ he want to do? Hank was right, it was a huge night; they should partake in something for the occasion.

And yet all he wanted was to stay in Markus' arms.

“Can we just go back to dancing?” he asked. His eyes closed as Markus pressed a kiss against his temple.

Hank returned to the couch to reconnect his phone to the speaker, starting the music where they'd left off. He felt the other android try to lead them into a step similar to their dance from before, but Connor's arms stayed where they were, keeping their bodies close.

Markus reached for his hands and guided one to his own waist, the other interlacing their fingers together in the empty space between their shoulders, swaying them together in small, almost nonexistent steps. Hank cleared his throat. “I'll give you two a few minutes,” he offered, and ducked into the hallway before either of them could reply. The moment his bedroom door clicked shut Connor connected to the speaker, switching the song to something without lyrics, and much more gentle.

“How are you feeling?” Markus asked.

Connor worked his jaw a few times before tucking his head beneath the other android's chin, ear to his chest. “I don't know what to do now that we're here,” he admitted. “I never really let myself think this far ahead.”

Markus kissed his hair and drew Connor's hand closer in his own. “You don't have to have any of it planned out. You've got the whole world ahead of you now. That's what's so wonderful about it—you can just let it happen and see what comes.”

“I suppose so.” Connor pulled back and lifted his forehead until it was pressed against Markus'. “I think for tonight this is all of the world ahead that I need,” he sighed, his eyes closing. Markus pressed back in reply.

Their swaying didn't bother to keep time with the song, despite how much the tempo had slowed. It didn't matter. The music was fading into a seamless transition of strings to piano. Keeping time was trivial compared to holding each other.

“I...” Markus' voice dipped below the music, whatever he was murmuring too low to make out. “...you.”

“What?”

“I said I'm so happy for you.”

Connor's brow furrowed as he opened his eyes. The syllables he had heard didn't match. “No, you didn't,” he said. There had been nine in total—he was sure of it.

Markus shushed him with a gentle kiss. “Nothing. Just dance with me?” he asked. And for once Connor was happy enough to oblige.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs referenced: Ain't That a Kick in the Head by Dean Martin  
> Sway by Dean Martin


	11. Epilogue (Part 11)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a storm. I sit in the eye of it, watching from afar the destruction it leaves in its wake. The most wonderful kind of destruction—the kind that touches the mountains and forests with a gentle caress, leaving them they way it found them on the outside, while the inside has twisted into turmoil. And it enjoys every moment of it. I think I do, too.
> 
> “We're almost there.”

_It's a storm. I sit in the eye of it, watching from afar the destruction it leaves in its wake. The most wonderful kind of destruction—the kind that touches the mountains and forests with a gentle caress, leaving them they way it found them on the outside, while the inside has twisted into turmoil. And it enjoys every moment of it. I think I do, too._

“We're almost there.”

Connor looked up from the page he was writing on just as the car dipped into a pothole, jostling the pen in his hand. “Sorry.” Hank glanced in the rearview mirror with a grimace. “Didn't see it.”

Connor set the pen between the pages and shut the notebook carefully. “That's okay,” he said. “I was done anyway.”

Hank's eyes travelled from the pothhole to the android's in the mirror. “How're you feeling?”

“In general, or about this?”

“Both.”

Connor's head turned to the rolling, empty hills out his window. The last time they had come this way they'd been blanketed with snow, obscuring a better understanding of the landscape. It looked like a different place now that spring had come. “Hopeful,” he answered after a few minutes.

When Hank didn't continue the conversation he closed his eyes and flicked through his mental library of music, scanning the most recent finds. It had grown significantly since the files Markus had first given him. Inspiring the words he'd taken and learned to make his own within his notebook, nearly full now. He would need a new one soon.

He settled on a song from an artist that Markus had taken a liking to recently and been playing while he painted. Sunlight pressed against his eyelids as the car turned with the road. He couldn't help but wonder, not for the first time, what it would be like to feel it against his skin.

 

_I've been seeing angels in my living room, that have walked the sun and have slept on the moon_

 

An image of the living room floor resurfaced, Markus taking Hank through the step pattern of a waltz across it. A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

The song had barely finished and transitioned into the next when Hank slowed the car, the sun disappearing beneath the shadow of the building that loomed before them. “You ready?” he asked as he set the gearshift in park.

Connor's eyes fluttered shut one last time to pause the song. “As much as I can be.”

They walked the ramp to the front doors together. He held himself back a step while Hank rang the doorbell, counting the seconds of silence until it opened to reveal a familiar face, blonde ponytail over her shoulder just as it had been the last time they'd been here. “Welcome back,” Chloe greeted them. “Mr. Kamski has been expecting you.”

Connor glanced around as they followed her through the front room. The art and pictures still hung in their familiar places. His gaze flickered away when it passed over the portrait of Kamski and Amanda.

Chloe paused at a door on the other side of the room just as Hank put a hand on his shoulder. “I'll be out here,” he said, his voice low. Connor turned, catching the look on the older man's face just before it faded; Hank wanted to be there with them, but this was part of the deal. “If you want to leave at any point, you shoot me a text. I don't care how far into talking you two are.”

Connor nodded and placed his hand over Hank's calloused knuckles. “Thank you,” he murmured. And then he was gone, following Chloe into the other room, the door closing behind them and taking Hank out of his sights.

His eyes flickered to the far end of the room just as a voice told him, “So good to see you, Connor.” The outline of a desk sat in the window of sunlight that took up the wall behind it. And between the two, hands folded in his lap and leaning back in his chair, was Kamski.

Connor crossed the distance between them and pulled out the chair on the opposite side of the desk. “Hello, Mr. Kamski.”

“Elijah's fine. I think we've known each other long enough at this point to skip formalities.” Elijah waved the back of his hand at Chloe, waiting until she had left the room before he added, “Congratulations on your newfound freedom.”

Connor's back remained tall in the chair. “We have you to thank for that. If not for your efforts, I would have had little to no chance of ever being released from Cyberlife. Thank you.”

“You don't need to thank me.” The man's eyes trailed over him, filled with curiosity, and something else he couldn't quite place. He tapped a finger against his temple. “I see you've taken out your LED.”

Connor's hand twitched in his lap as he resisted the urge to run his index finger over where the light had resided. “I decided I wanted it out after the paperwork was signed.”

“Hm. You remember why we're here, sitting down and talking today?”

Connor nodded. “This was part of the agreement, should our efforts be successful,” he said.

“And do you know what that entails?”

He pressed his mouth into a firm line. When a few seconds had passed without reply Elijah continued, “I just want us to talk. I want these meetings to feel open between us, because I'm interested in your perspectives and experiences as a deviant.”

“And you're going to record what you find.”

“Document. Nothing will leave these walls that you don't want to. You're free to talk here, about as much or as little as you want. But the key is, regardless, that we talk.” Elijah set his elbows on the desk and pressed his fingers together in front of his mouth. “Do you understand, Connor?”

“Yes.” The word left Connor's lips slowly.

“Okay. Are you ready to start?”

He gave a small nod.

Elijah reached below his desk for a tablet, leaning back a bit further in his chair as he slid his finger over the screen. “How do you feel about being here?” he asked.

Connor's eyes flickered to the window behind the desk, taking in the clouds that dotted the sky as he thought. “I'm not sure yet,” he finally admitted.

“Why's that?”

Humans talked about seeing pictures in the clouds. It always seemed to happen in books and movies—he had yet to witness someone do it in person. “Because of the events and circumstances the previous time I was here. And the uncertainty of what these days together will resemble, due to it being our first.”

“Ah.” A fingernail tapped twice against the desk. The action was thoughtful more than impatient. “Yes. I can tell you're not entirely comfortable.”

Connor blinked in surprise. “How?”

“Whenever you seem doubtful or uneasy your answers become more detailed,” Elijah said. “Like you're reading a description from a text book, which is interesting. I've noticed it a few times.”

“I wasn't aware.” He wondered if Markus ever watched the clouds.

“That's fine if you're not comfortable yet. We'll work our way up—we have plenty of time to get there.” There was a pause as the man looked down at his tablet. “Do you think you relate more to the idea of being human now than you did when you originally deviated?”

There was a piece lying around somewhere in Markus' room of the clouds against a mountain peak. He was sure he had seen it before. “No.”

Elijah raised an eyebrow at the quick response. “Why's that?”

Connor worked his jaw a few times, trying to find the right words. “My experience... will never be the same as a human,” he said carefully. “It might be similar in ways, but... I'm still an android. And due to that my experience is something other people might find hard to understand. So no, I don't feel human.” He blinked. “But I feel just as much alive as anyone I pass on the street.”

Elijah regarded him for a moment before lowering his eyes to the tablet, tapping something out on the keyboard. “Take your time with this next one. What do you think is the most prominent thing you've learned since becoming deviant?”

The room echoed with the silence that followed the question.

The most prominent thing he'd learned? What did that even mean?

Connor frowned as he closed his eyes, trying to sift back through his memories for some sort of hint. Prominent. A handful surfaced for him in an attempt to compile themselves into a proficient answer. And yet, the memory that stood out the most was the jarring of the bus beneath him, Michael in his peripheral vision, full of pride at their heroic deed the way only a six year old can be.

Another one sat behind it. He dug a little deeper, letting it come to see where the trail led.

The empty spaces between songs when one ended and before the next began, the first time he listened through Markus' playlist. The rush that came over him the first time he wrote something in his notebook, and how he hadn't let himself feel proud of it for some time after. Markus trying to be subtle as he moved his grip while they were dancing, drawing them closer an inch at a time until they were holding each other.

The candles flickering before him in the fading twilight at Jericho.

The feeling of safety between Hank and Markus while he let his tears soak into Markus' shoulder.

The moments before their first real interface, Markus pressed against the wall beneath him, the air frozen as it waited for their hands to meet.

Markus taking his fingers against his lips.

Connor blinked his eyes open when the chain of memories reached an end. The room struggled to refocus; when it did he saw that Elijah's gaze was still on him, studying and unwavering. For a split second Connor wondered if his LED had flickered to a different color, before remembering it wasn't there anymore.

_What is the most prominent thing you've learned since becoming deviant?_

He met the man's firm gaze with his own when he finally answered. “The meaning of silence.”

 

**The End**

(...for now)

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank anyone who has taken the time to read this story, whether you just discovered it today or have been with me since the beginning. All the people who have left kind comments and tags and reblogs, you are awesome. Every single one of you.  
> An especially big thank-you to the people who have come back chapter after chapter, full of excitement and encouraging words every time, who I've had the pleasure of getting to know and sharing in enthusiasm as we both encourage each other's art. You know who you are.  
> And please fear not, this may be the end of an arc, but this is not truly The End! I intend to do more in the future (with a very special bonus chapter coming soon) and I hope you'll stick around!
> 
> Peace,  
> Silenceindetroit
> 
> Songs referenced: Angels by Khalid


	12. The Question (Part 12)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sound of the pencil against the thick, uneven paper in Markus' notebook was faint, almost nonexistent amidst the noise from the other rooms. Not that he minded—it gave him the cover to work unnoticed, which he preferred.  
>  It had been such a spur-of-the-moment urge that he'd been lucky to have anything to draw with on him in the first place. He didn't normally even bring his art supplies out of the house. It had been a habit he'd been trying to implement recently; capture inspiration where and when it struck. He shouldn't have been surprised what the first moment was when it came, if he was being honest with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to start this chapter off with a foreword—number one, this bonus chapter is a birthday gift for my good friend. I liked what they wanted so much that I asked if I could add it to the TMOS canon. Happy birthday binch  
>  Number two, the last month has been hell for me. I hope this chapter is up to par—I rewrote it more than once and did the best I could, so I hope it's satisfactory. I apologize if it feels different at all. It's also long. Much longer than any other chapter I've posted before. So grab a snack or somethin maybe.   
>  Number three, I've started an instagram for people to keep up with my writing journey! Fun fact: I have a novel I've been working on for a few years, and ideas for more in the future. If you wanna keep up with me and the more professional side of what I do, you can find me at ollie.writes :) My work specifically for this story won't be associated with it, as I consider this a private passtime and the page will be for my professional stuff, but if you're interested in me as a writer I'd love if you dropped by to say hi! Send me a message if you came from over here and I'll follow you back.  
>  Without further ado, I hope you enjoy this little encore.

The sound of the pencil against the thick, uneven paper in Markus' notebook was faint, almost nonexistent amidst the noise from the other rooms. Not that he minded—it gave him the cover to work unnoticed, which he preferred.

It had been such a spur-of-the-moment urge that he'd been lucky to have anything to draw with on him in the first place. He didn't normally even bring his art supplies out of the house. It had been a habit he'd been trying to implement recently; capture inspiration where and when it struck. He shouldn't have been surprised what the first moment was when it came, if he was being honest with himself.

His lips pressed into a firm line as his eyes flickered over the page, trying to calculate where to lay the next few pencil strokes. It was an outline really, nothing more. He would fill in the rest later when he had time. But the moment had been too clear to pass up, almost frozen, as if it was waiting for him until he gave the universe some sort of confirmation that he'd gotten what he wanted out of it.

Mouth, he decided.

He glanced up from the page, back to his inspiration's focus. Connor's eyes were still half-lidded, caught up in running his fingers over the thick forehead of a grey pitbull, where she had wedged her face between his knees, looking up with the same wide eyes Markus had seen Connor use many times before. Her thick paddle of a tail hadn't stopped wagging since Connor had started talking to her in a low voice. Even now, Markus could see his lips moving ever so slightly, but the murmur was almost inaudible, lost in the noises outside their door. Parted slightly. Full and defined.

“Markus?”

His attention snapped up, internal fans whirring. Connor's eyes were on him now, noticing the notebook for the first time. He shut it hurriedly. “Yes?”

The wrinkles between Connor's eyes grew prominent as his brow creased. “I think I love her,” he announced. The pitbull's tail sped up at the change in his voice. She pressed her nose further forward, jowls tugging back where they rubbed against his jeans and bunching at the sides of her snout.

Markus couldn't help but let out a laugh. “What would Hank say?” he asked.

“No more pets,” Connor quoted, with more than a hint of disappointment. He turned back to the pitbull and took an ear in each hand. “But she's so sweet,” he added, rubbing them gently. “And she really needs a home.”

Something fluttered in Markus' chest—whether it was his processors or his heart, he wasn't sure—at the way Connor's words lilted, filled with concern and wistfulness. He slid the pencil into the spine of the notebook and set his hand on the cover. “Do you want to keep coming to visit her until she does?” he offered.

“Can we?”

“Of course.”

Connor's shoulders fell an inch with relief. He leaned forward, a hand on either side of the pitbull's square head now, and pressed his forehead against hers. “You hear that?” he asked her quietly. “We'll come to see you until you find a home. So you won't be lonely.” Her nose pressed upward to try and lick his chin, tail speeding up again at the new contact.

Markus' hand twitched against the notebook, fighting the urge to open it back up. Even if he did, there wasn't time to finish in the few minutes before the shelter closed. He made a mental note to go back over the memory later. For artistic purposes.

“Connor?” he spoke up gently. “They'll be locking up soon. We should head out.”

“Okay.” Connor's eyes shut, as if he were trying to imprint a thought into the pitbull's mind through their connected foreheads. “We'll be back, okay?” he assured her one last time, before planting a kiss between her eyes and straightening to his feet. He turned back to Markus, waiting until the other android rose to meet him. “Thank you for the date,” he added as they made their way through the glass door that separated them from the hallway.

Markus gave him a cheeky smile. “Oh, was it a date?” he asked innocently. His fingers reached across the empty space between them, hooking with Connor's as they walked. “I hadn't realized.”

Connor's gaze flickered back over his shoulder, to the door they'd come through. “You really think she'll find a home?”

“I'm sure of it. She's one of the sweetest dogs I've ever met.”

“Next to Sumo.”

Markus gave a low chuckle as he stepped forward to push the front door open for them. “Next to Sumo,” he agreed.

The afternoon sun that greeted them was blinding, flooding the street gold, reflecting harshly in the windows of buildings. Connor squinted as his retinas adjusted from the fluorescent lights they'd been under in the animal shelter. The traffic on the main street was growing relatively heavy, the open tab in his head told him. His brow furrowed as several calculations suggested the quickest routes. It was easier to set a pickup location on a side street and meet a ride there, than have it come to them through the worst of the traffic.

Markus shifted beside him in the stillness. “Well,” he offered, “anything else you'd like to do?”

Connor closed his eyes, exiting out of the maps suggestions. When he opened them again he took a single step down the stairs and turned back to Markus. His internal fans hiccuped at the way the light caught in the other android's eyelashes. “It was a lovely date,” he said in the most even voice he could manage, holding up Markus' hand as if he might kiss it. “But now it's my turn.”

Markus gave a laugh at the over-exaggerated gesture. “What do you mean?”

Connor grinned and shook his head. “Follow me.” He gave the other android's hand a gentle tug, coaxing him down to the sidewalk before setting off, picking up the pace. “If we're fast we might be able to catch the sunset,” he added as they half-walked, half-jogged the length of the pavement.

“Catch it from where?” Markus pressed.

“You'll see.”

 

\-----

 

The drive down the side streets took an extra ten minutes for them to reach their destination, but compared to the risk of getting stuck in worse traffic, it was worth the loss. Connor's eyes flickered out the window every so often, gauging the time by the brightness of the sunlight over each street. His comment to Markus had been a hint exaggerated—they had plenty of time before sunset. But he wanted there to be a big enough margin to show him as much as he could in the daylight.

“You're not going to give me any hints?” Markus asked halfway through the drive, breaking the silence. Connor glanced at him from the corner of his eye. The genuine curiosity on the other android's face made a smile crack over his own, despite his determination.

“Hm,” he murmured, cocking an eyebrow as he pretended to ponder the question. “But by definition it wouldn't be a surprise anymore if I did, would it?”

Markus raised an eyebrow back. “That's not true,” he argued. “That's why it's a hint. It's not a full revelation, just enough to let someone know what kind of mindset to have.” He gave Connor a look when the other android only grinned at him.

When the car finally pulled onto the final street, diverging from its original path parallel to the worst of the traffic and slowing to a stop against the curb to let them off, Connor reached over to place a hand against Markus' arm. “Wait here,” he said with bright eyes. “I'll be right back.” Markus' brows drew together in confusion, but Connor was already opening his door before he could get a word out, climbing out to the sidewalk and walking briskly up the path to a locked gate.

Markus held back a smile as he shook his head to himself. He scanned what he could see of the area while he waited; it was a place he didn't recognize, a high metal fence separating the sidewalk, the space beyond it hidden from view behind the tops of trees. It had to be a downward slope beyond the fence, judging by the unorthodox height of them.

He trailed a finger over the notebook cover where it rested on the seat beside his leg.The pages whispered under his hand as he hooked beneath it and flipped through them, skimming until he came to the sketch he'd been working on at the animal shelter. His gaze lingered over the lips that were frozen in a half-spoken word that would never be completed. The half-lidded eyes. The defined cheekbone. He resisted the urge to run his index finger along each of them, knowing the charcoal would smudge if he did.

Had they intended to make Connor so intricate when they'd designed him? he wondered. There were so many instances of care to detail that even _he_ didn't always pick up on. They always revealed themselves in unexpected moments, most often when he studied the other android with an artist's eye. And even then it was in the aftermath, as he looked over his work, that he would realize what he'd captured.

And then there were the subtle changes to his mannerisms. The declaration of his freedom had brought out a different side of Connor. It was faint, almost unnoticeable, but Markus had picked up on it—he composed himself a little differently now, talked with a hint more expression in his face, held his shoulders less stiff, as if he felt he could finally relax where before he'd been so desperate to control his desires. In case...

In case it was ripped away.

The passenger door swung open without warning.

Markus' hand jumped to shut the notebook. “Ready?” Connor asked him, beaming into the car with eyes alight and eager.

Markus laughed. “Hard to say for sure, when I don't even know where we are.” He grabbed the notebook and opened his own door to follow Connor up the cement path. “Are we even supposed to be here?”

“I made arrangements.”

The gate that rose above their heads was still shut and locked; whatever this place was, it looked more than closed. Markus stood behind to watch as Connor placed a hand against one of the metal bars, leaning forward to scan for something beyond the entrance. He took a step back when a young man came into view on the other side, _volunteer_ embroidered into the breast of his green button-down shirt. He gave the two of them a wide grin. “Hello, Markus,” he greeted. He raised his fingers to a panel, freckled skin melting away to reveal the porcelain white of an android's hand. The internal lock on the gate opened with a loud _click_.

“Enjoy the sunset,” the android added with a wink as he watched them make their way in. “Let us know if you have any questions.” Connor gave a nod of thanks, but Markus' focus was already lost on where the path led, descending deep into the trees he had seen from the car. “What...?” he whispered.

Connor took his hand. “Just wait.”

The ground sloped beneath their feet, taking them down into the maze of tree trunks, each spaced several feet from the others around it and standing like grave markers while their leaves caught the fading sunlight, beams illuminating the dust where they pierced the air. Wherever the path led, it was far below and out of sight. The possibility of getting lost felt a little too real.

“What is this place?” Markus asked quietly, almost afraid to disturb the stillness around them.

Connor's gaze lifted to the canopy of leaves above their heads. “It's a project the city started about twenty years ago, originally proposed as a way to bring more of a nature-driven environment to Detroit. They wanted nature to feel accessible to residents who don't have an opportunity to travel to the state parks in Michigan.”

“It doesn't even feel like we're in Detroit anymore.”

The corner of Connor's mouth curled upward. “Wait until we get to the bottom.”

The view of the gate they'd come through was long gone; whether it had come to be hidden by the thickness of the trees or the slope itself was hard to say. The hill began to level out just as Markus began to wonder how far it could possibly go, the space between the trees thinning, until the view ahead was no longer obscured, and he realized it wasn't just a hill they'd made their way down; the entire place was concave, sinking down from street level in the shape of a dome. The bottom of it opened into a grassy glade, bordered by trees on every side. And placed in the middle like the centerpiece of an altar sat a pond, no more than a hundred feet in diameter, its water reflecting the colors of the sky.

It was something out of a fairy tale.

He barely registered Connor, tugging gently on his hand as he stared. “What do you think?” the other android asked.

Markus could only shake his head. “How is there no one else here?” he managed as he let himself be led closer to the edge of the pond, several feet from where the water met the bank. They lowered themselves down onto the grass.

The sound Connor let out was almost sheepish. “They're... actually closed right now,” he admitted.

Markus raised his eyebrows, tearing his gaze from their surroundings. “You _snuck us in_?” he demanded.

“Not exactly. I just didn't get full permission.”

“Oh my god, Connor, are you serious?”

“The android at the gate maintains it at night, he agreed as long as we didn't disturb anything he wouldn't tell anyone—”

Markus couldn't help himself; a laugh escaped him at the look of embarrassment that spread over the other android's face. “We're going to get kicked out,” he teased, reaching his hand forward to rub Connor's jaw when he saw it clench. “You just caught me off guard is all. I love it. This place is beautiful.”

The light crept back into Connor's eyes. “You think so?”

Markus nodded and tilted forward, catching a glimpse of the other android's eyelids fluttering shut as he leaned to press his lips between his brows. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“You told me you wanted to find new places that inspired you to paint,” Connor explained. His eyes were still closed.

“I did.” Markus turned his head to look back to the water, then the trees that rose beyond it, almost aglow with the fading light. “And you certainly know how to pick them.”

“This isn't what I wanted to show you.”

“There's more?”

“Yes, but not yet. After the sunset.”

Markus huffed jokingly. “All this waiting, and not even a single hint to get me through.”

“It'll be worth it,” Connor replied. The grin on his face was blinding. “Just be patient.”

Markus gave a solemn nod, but his eyes were warm. “Very well. I resign myself to wait. And in the meantime I'll keep myself busy studying the most beautiful view Detroit has to offer.”

“That's the spirit.” Connor waved a hand toward what they could see of the horizon far above their heads, where the sky was darkening into the colors of the sunset. “The light will turn the outline of the trees black and create a nice contrast against the sky. It might make for a good painting opportunity.”

“I wasn't talking about the trees.”

Connor's brow furrowed. He turned back, question on the tip of his tongue, only to have his thirium pump stall for a moment when he realized Markus' eyes were on him. “Oh,” he said quietly.

Markus let out a low chuckle and reached his hand into the front pocket of his jeans. “I almost forgot, I have something for you.”

The box he withdrew was familiar, slim enough to be mistaken for a wallet, but instead of the familiar black Connor had grown accustomed to the color was a deep navy blue. “You said you wanted your own, right?” Markus reminded him. He raised the box up a moment before holding it out in offering.

“I didn't think you remembered,” Connor admitted. Their fingers brushed as he reached to take the new micro-magnet set.

“You might want to open it. These are a little different—they've made a few upgrades.”

Connor did as he was told, sliding his thumb against the clasp to open the box. He blinked in surprise when it fanned out like an expanding file folder, a clear, plastic envelope with its own color-coded tab between each of three sections.

He raised an eyebrow at Markus, but the other android's gaze was on the contents of the box. “They have a few variations now. Before it was just the one model—” Markus' finger reached forward to point to the middle envelope, and then the one to its left— “but now they have one for interpreting lighter touch. And the one on the other end is more intense.”

Connor's eyes widened. “So they all feel different?” he asked.

“That's what I was told.”

“You didn't have to do all this, Markus—I would have been more than happy with the same ones you have.”

Markus gave a dismissive shrug, despite the smile on his face. “They'll be released for sale this month,” he said. “They just let me have mine early.”

Connor ran a finger along the edge of the envelope with a pale green tab, the one Markus had said would feel the lightest. “Thank you,” he said. He took the envelope between two fingers and pulled it from the box. “Should we try it out?”

“Right now?” Markus let out a laugh. “If you want.” He watched as Connor extracted the envelope's contents, fishing out the lip film. “You'll be the first in history to use them,” he added.

“Hm.” Connor pressed the film into place, tucking the tab behind his lower lip with the tip of his tongue. “That's got a nice ring to it,” he said. His hand reached forward without warning, cupping Markus' chin to pull him closer. The other android stiffened in surprise, but only for a moment, before melting into a kiss as their lips were pressed together fleetingly. He pressed forward, trying to steal another, but Connor pulled back to study his face. “How does it feel?” he asked.

Markus was slow to answer. His gaze fell over the thumb that held him away, before flickering up to Connor's mouth, his own lips still parted. “Nice,” he managed after a few seconds. “Really nice.” And then he reached forward, grabbing Connor by the back of the neck, and pulled him into another kiss.

The colors of the sunset had already begun to mingle together, mixes of purple and pink bleeding through the clouds, the streaks of orange growing more prominent with each inch the sun crept lower. The surface of the pond rippled under the reflection of the hues in its own moving, messy blend. Neither of them quite remembered to pay any mind until it was almost too late.

Connor's eyes flitted up just as the last of the colors melted into each other several minutes later, fading with the oncoming darkness. He struggled for a moment to pull away from the hunger of Markus' lips. “I think we might have missed the sunset,” he admitted, searching the sky.

Markus reached to trail his thumbs down the length of either side of Connor's jaw. “That's okay,” he murmured back, studying the cleft in his chin. “I think I learned the meaning of soft.”

Connor's internal fans whirred; their mouths were still incredibly close. “Oh? Is it nice?”

“Very much so.” Markus paused, shutting his eyes as his brow knit together. The next words left his mouth slowly. “There's something I've been meaning to ask you.”

Connor tilted his head down to brush his lips against Markus' thumb. The corner of his mouth twitched when the other android ran the length of it. “There's something I've been meaning to ask you, too,” he said. The thumb traveled back the other direction.

“You first.”

Connor shook his head. “You called it.”

Markus' gaze flickered out over the water, nearly black now with only a few hints of orange across its surface. He opened his mouth, only to close it again. “I didn't expect it to be this hard,” he finally admitted to the shadows creeping their way across the glade. He let out a nervous laugh and tilted his head back, as if searching the oncoming evening sky for help. “I've been wondering if you'd like to make us official.”

The last light of the sunset made a silent exit, taking what remained of the orange from the clouds with it. Not even the world continuing on above them, long forgotten, could reach far enough to penetrate the silence.

“What?”

“I'm asking you if you'd want to be my boyfriend, Connor,” Markus reiterated with closed eyes. The nervousness was thick in his voice.

Three seconds passed, each more unbearable than the last, until Connor raised his hands to bury his face. “Oh my god, Markus—” he pleaded.

The pulse of Markus' thirium pump plummeted in his chest. “I-I didn't want to rush you,” he stammered. “But I didn't want to wait any longer, I wasn't sure if it was too early to ask, and it... I'm sorry. I should have waited—”

Connor gave a small shake of his head, cutting him off. “Markus, stop.” He tore his eyes away from his fingers to search the other's in the growing darkness. “Why do you think I brought you here?” he asked.

“I...” Markus paused, his train of thought dying. He blinked twice, slowly. “What do you mean?”

Connor's internal fans let out a sigh of air. “I was already going to ask you. During the surprise.” He gave a smile of defeat when he added, “but I guess you've beaten me to it.”

“Oh m... Connor...” A groan escaped the back of Markus' throat. He lowered his head into his hands, the weight of the situation crashing through his system. This could only happen to them. “I'm so sorry. I should have figured it out.”

To his surprise, Connor let out a laugh. Hands reached up to pull at his wrists. “You know it's okay to give someone else a chance once in a while,” the other android teased. “Stop trying to steal the limelight all the time.”

“I feel terrible,” Markus muttered, the words thick with guilt. He shook his head to himself. “I wouldn't have asked if I'd known that was your plan. I really am sorry.”

“Well,” Connor gave a smile and shrugged, “at least I know your answer would have been yes.”

Markus pulled his wrists gently from Connor's grip, reaching up to run his fingers into the other android's hair on either side of his head, searching his gaze in the darkness. “You could have asked me the day we met and it would have been yes,” he murmured.

The smile on Connor's face softened. “Really, there and then?” he whispered. His body leaned forward to press their foreheads together.

Markus gave a quiet chuckle as he pressed back, eyes closed. “Maybe would have made you be a gentleman about it, take me out on a couple of dates first. Definitely by the second.”

“Fair enough.” Connor copied his hands, reaching up to take either side of Markus' face between his palms. “My answer for you is yes, I'd like to make us official.” His mouth spread into another smile as Markus stole a kiss. “Sorry to make you wait so long. It's almost time.”

“I don't mind.”

“And I guess now I don't have a question for you when it comes after all... well.” Connor's head tilted back, gaze flickering to the sky. “Not the one I intended.”

Markus blinked. “The one you intended?” he echoed.

The edges of Connor's jaw tightened as he clenched it. “Well,” he repeated, slowly. “There _is_ one other question that I've been meaning to ask you.”

A hand trailed from Connor's hair back to his mouth. “I think you deserve an answer to whatever it is, since I stole the one you were going to ask,” Markus said, exploring the wrinkles in his lips.

Connor searched his face. “Honest answer?” he asked.

“Honest answer.”

His eyes closed, weighing the offer, before he allowed himself to nod. “What I want to know is... What was it you said to me, the night we got the news from Kamski?”

The hand against Connor's mouth stiffened. Even in the dark, the surprise on the other android's face was clear as day. His mouth fell open a fraction of an inch, struggling to wrestle out a reply for several seconds, before he managed an unconvincing, “I told you.”

Connor shook his head. “Honest answer,” he reminded him. “I want to know what you actually said.”

Markus' lips pressed into a thin line. Both hands withdrew to his lap, the lightheartedness in his eyes fading. In its absence the hint of something deeper peeked through; something meant to be kept hidden, tucked away in hopes that it would be overlooked and forgotten.

He almost looked guilty.

Connor rubbed his thumbs down either side of the android's cheeks. “Markus?” he tried again.

Markus' eyes closed at the sound of his name. “I don't want it to change your answer,” he finally relented.

“Why would it?”

Markus' gaze shifted away, towards the pond. “I never meant for you to hear it. I never even meant to say it out loud, it just... it came to me in the moment. I thought it had only been, well.” His voice lowered to a whisper as he stared out over the water. “A thought.”

Connor frowned, brow furrowing at the despair laced around the word. “Whatever it was, it won't change my answer.”

“You don't know that,” Markus murmured. Even from only the view of his profile, Connor could see that his face was unconvinced. He watched in uncertainty, waiting, but whatever other thoughts were running through Markus' head, it was clear he was done sharing.

Connor followed his gaze to the pond. Moonlight had taken the place of the sunset's over the surface, rippling in broken patches dimmer than its predecessor, but just as breathtaking. His eyes rose from the water to the moon itself. “Yes, I do,” he said.

But a seed of doubt had sprouted in his chest. Did he? Could he be ready to hear whatever this was, when Markus himself was so unsure?

Either way, it was too late. The other android's head dipped down in defeat, a muttered curse leaving his lips. The next words that came were low—barely audible, even in the stillness—but just loud enough for Connor's eyes to widen as he caught them.

“What?” he whispered. Surely he hadn't heard right.

It had sounded like _I think I'm falling in love with you._

Markus's fingers tightened in his lap, eyes still cast away. “The night we were dancing after we got the news,” he repeated. “I said... that I thought I was falling in love with you. I don't know why it came to me. It just did.” He paused to run a hand over the back of his neck. “If... you don't still want to be... you know, I understand. I didn't want you to feel pressured to reciprocate anything. I don't even know what I make of my own feelings.” His chin tilted up towards the darkness of the sky, tinged with city light. “I just know that when I'm with you, it's like a weight's lifted from my shoulders, and I can just... be. There's no pressure, no demand to be the leader, or the decision maker. To be the savior. You've never looked at me that way. You always just expect me to be me.” His shoulders fell, the declaration over. “Sorry,” he added, the word tinged with guilt.

Connor shook his head. “Don't,” he whispered, his voice raspy. He paused to clear his vocal box. “Don't be sorry. You've always been so in-tune with your emotions. It's a gift I wish I had. And the way it comes to you, it's almost like art.” His fingers reached down, brushing against the back of the other android's wrist. “Don't ever be sorry for that.” Markus stared down at the interaction, uncertainty in his eyes. When Connor remained unmoving he slid his own hand over Connor's knuckles in silent relent.

An extra breath of air sucked its way through Connor's internal fans as he took in the doubt that still hung heavy on Markus' face. “So,” he started solemnly, “is it safe for me to assume now that you like me?”

The words floated in the air for a moment before they were registered. Markus dared a glance back up. “What...?”

The corner of Connor's mouth twitched. “In all the time we've spent together, not once have I ever heard you say you like me. I was really starting to wonder.”

Markus met his gaze now, confusion passing over his features, before he raised eyebrow of suspicion. “Did you... just try to make a joke?” he asked.

Connor shook his head. “On the contrary, this is a serious matter. My theories have finally been confirmed, after all this time—”

Both brows shot up. “You _are_ making a joke—”

“But,” Connor continued as if he hadn't heard him, “this does mean that you have to build your way up first.” He grinned when Markus gave him a look. “You can't just tell someone you think you're in love with them before you've even told them you like them.”

“For the record, you're the one who made me tell you,” Markus pointed out. He raised his eyes to the sky in a half-hearted eyeroll. “I like you, Connor.”

The grin on Connor's face turned to a smirk as he leaned in, bringing their faces closer. “Now. Do you have a crush on me?”

“Connor.” Markus let out a groan. Even in the dark, the shade of blue beneath his face grew a little more prominent. “Haven't I been through enough tonight?” he pleaded.

“Answer the question, sir.”

The other android threw his hands up in mock defeat. “Yes, Connor, I have a crush on you.”

“There you go.” Connor raised a hand to reach for the back of Markus' neck and pulled him close, pressing a slow kiss against his lips. “That wasn't so hard, was it?”

“I don't appreciate the condescending tone,” Markus joked, but the frustrated facade was already disappearing, crumbling under the tingling that bloomed from his mouth to the edge of his jaw.

“To be fair, I don't get to see you flustered very often,” Connor pointed out. His grip tightened to tilt Markus' head back as his lips began to trail down, making their way over the android's exposed neck. But rather than leaning into it like he expected, Markus yanked his chin down, scrunching his shoulder up towards his ear. A half-smothered giggle he couldn't quite suppress rose from him in a hitch that nearly made Connor's processors stall.

A smirk of delight spread over his face as realization set in.

“Now do I?” he teased, holding him in place with the hand still behind his neck and crouching to his feet. Markus scrambled to crawl his way backwards, quick to catch on, but it was too late; Connor was already over him, pushing him down towards the grass, grip on his neck like a vice as he went to work.

Markus let out a growl of desperation as his hands were blocked from reaching to push Connor's merciless lips away. Even with only one unoccupied, the other android was faster, his design for neutralizing hostile threats to his advantage. It didn't take long for the giggles to turn into choked laughter. And then pleads of surrender when Connor's face wedged between his chin and collarbone, taking over the job of his other hand, and he pinned Markus' wrists to the ground.

“You win,” Markus choked out, “you win, _let me go—_ ”

A grunt escaped him as the grip on his wrists slackened and he pulled them away, shoving them up against Connor's neck, though the torment had already stopped. “Is this how you get confessions from all your victims?” he demanded, staring up into the brown eyes that were filled with mirth. “Tactics of relentless interrogation and humiliation?”

“Only the leader of the revolution. Who happens to have a crush on me.” Connor grinned at the dirty look Markus gave him. “If I'd known it was this easy Jericho wouldn't have gotten very far.”

“You would have deviated before it got to that point, I'd like to think.”

“Mh, true.” Connor leaned down onto his hands and pressed a kiss against Markus' mouth. “The sound of your laugh would have been enough to cause my software instability.”

Markus gave a devilish smirk. “Or maybe it would've been the other way around,” he said.

“Not a chance.”

“We'll see. I bought two sets.”

“Don't get your hopes up.” Connor raised an eyebrow, waiting for another quip, but Markus' eyes were softening. The hands on his throat found their way to either side of his face. “What is it?” he asked.

“You just...” Markus pressed his lips together, searching for the right words. “You smile so much more now than before. It's like you never really used to let yourself be present in the moment.”

Connor closed his eyes as Markus ran an index finger over the chipped exterior beneath his synthetic skin, where his LED used to reside. “I didn't,” he said quietly. He pushed away the memories bubbling up and lowered onto his elbows, nudging his chin forward to close the distance between their lips. The kiss Markus gave him back was gentle. The memories would have their day, when he would sit down and start the journey of working through them, face the fears he had cut back but not yet uprooted. But not now. Not today. Today was a day to simply be.

A quiet alarm went off in the back of Connor's mind when he pulled away, reminding him of the time that he'd forgotten to be checking. He let out a quiet _oh_ , and without another word rolled off of Markus, settling onto his back in the grass.

“Well?” he asked after a minute of silence had stretched between them. His voice was hopeful. “What do you think?”

“What do you mean?”

“Of the stars.”

Markus searched the sky, brow furrowed. “Connor, there aren't any out. There never are—you can't see them over the city lights.”

“You—you can't see...?” Connor shot up, twisting to stare down at where Markus lay before lifting his eyes back to the heavens, mouth falling open. And then his face fell in realization. “I forgot.” He pressed the base of his palm against his forehead, a noise of despair escaping him. “You're not the same model type.”

Markus gave a slow blink. “What—?”

“No,” Connor muttered to himself. He stole another glance up as his mind scrambled for a solution, already lost in thought, options racing through his head.

“Here,” he finally said after a minute. “Give me your hand.”

Markus did as he was asked, reaching to intertwine their fingers while the synthetic skin melted away, down to Connor's wrist, the android's face twitching as he opened an interface between them.

Markus' brow furrowed. Rather than prioritizing the download of information like usual, his vision had gone double, overlapping with what Connor was showing him. He probed at the connection as he closed his eyes. His own vision went dark, but the overlap remained, and Markus realized as it was blinked into focus that he was looking at himself through Connor's eyes. The interface went dark for a moment while Connor lay back down in the grass, eyes closed.

A small gasp escaped Markus when he opened them again.

Beyond the dissipating clouds, the lackluster view he'd seen before had been replaced with hundreds—thousands, even—of stars; clusters to solitary pinpricks, some stationary and white, others pulsing with flares of red or blue. Markus shook his head in disbelief. More than thousands, he realized; they might as well have been deep in the mountains, hundreds of miles away from humanity. “You see like this all the time?” he whispered.

“I don't always use this particular feature,” Connor said. “But yes, I can access it whenever I want.”

“This... is beautiful.” Markus shook his head again. “You're the one who should have been the artist, not me. You have the perfect eyes for it.”

“I could never have your artistic inspiration.” Connor kept his gaze open, trying not to focus on any particular part of the sky to let Markus take in as much as possible. “Are you familiar with the different constellations?” he asked.

Markus shifted beside him, moving to tuck his head blindly into the nook between Connor's neck and shoulder. “Not very much.”

Connor's eyes flickered over the clusters, searching for matches to the star charts, before settling on a particular group. “That's Coma Berenices,” he started slowly. His gaze moved an inch to the right. “That one is Leo, and the one on the left is Bootes, dominated by Arcturus—the fourth brightest star in the sky—which also makes up one point of the Great Diamond.”

He named the details of the sky one at a time, taking care not to miss any of the stars that connected to other, outlying constellations that spread between clusters; Virgo to Corvus, to Hydra, to Canis Major. He had just started on Canis Minor when he raised their clasped hands up to his mouth. “Commonly represented as the smaller of two dogs,” he recited, lips brushing the back of Markus' knuckles while he spoke. A small noise of content rose from the other android. “Running on either side of Monoceros.”

He was wrapping up the layout of Orion when Markus spoke up, interrupting before he could continue. “Do you think we're keeping that other android?” he asked.

Connor blinked. “Jerry? No. He said we could stay as long as we want.”

“Figuratively or literally? Because I wouldn't mind laying here for the rest of night.”

Connor's lips spread into a smile against the back of Markus' hand. “Well, if he tries to say anything you can tell him to talk to your significant other,” he said.

“Ah, yes.” Markus let out a chuckle. He turned onto his side and pulled their hands away from Connor's mouth to make room for his own. The tips of their tongues flicked together, both of their worlds going dark as Connor closed his eyes. “Forgot about that.”

Markus' palm disconnected from Connor's ever so slightly when they pulled away, putting the interface on pause. “So,” he murmured. “Does this mean you haven't changed your mind?”

Connor searched his eyes in the darkness, taking in the fractured moonlight that danced over his irises and caught in his lashes. The strongest, most beautiful soul he knew, looking at him as if he held the fate of the world in his palms. _His_ Markus.

“Not in the slightest,” Connor murmured back. And then his eyes closed as Markus pulled him into a new kiss, their fingers reaching blindly for each other, hands turning as porcelain-white as the stars that burned above them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you sticking with me all the way to the end. I am now off to take a long-needed break and a nap. Goodnight

**Author's Note:**

> Songs referenced: In a Week by Hozier


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